


Sometimes When We Touch

by 343EnderSpark, thelonebamf



Series: Touch-starved [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Comfort Food, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of sex trafficking, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sensation Play, Slow Burn, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Touch-Starved, Yule log, food mentioned every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-10-31 10:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 88,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/343EnderSpark/pseuds/343EnderSpark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: Peter answers a Craigslist ad for someone who is willing to pay for some unspecified physical contact/sex because he's just that broke. He's surprised to find out Wade Wilson is the one who posted the ad, but thinks he can still manage just fine even when the man explains he'd like him to wear a special costume for the occasion. Of course things become a little more complicated when Wade reveals the outfit he's chosen: a shockingly accurate Spider-Man suit





	1. Can You Hold Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has [a Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0DPAaKgX12qyCPAnHpzKYl?si=hlgnhrlbSdKK8A3nxRWrag) or if you prefer, [a Youtube Playlist!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo3lxS-6joY&list=PLKjXzMQb3o8IfTBkUkLj0fI4xIyS8XkEd)

* * *

Wade bounced on his feet, full of nervous energy he hadn’t managed to work off during his last fight. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. There was still about an hour to go, but he didn’t want to spend all the extra time at home.

He glanced over at Spider-Man. He had helped the other hero out tonight, though things had grown a little tense when he unalived one of the assailants. Even when Wade did his best to avoid it around the hero, his old habits died much harder than any of the mooks or minions who stood in his way.

Deadpool looked back at his phone, running through his email again, checking to see if the person coming to visit him hadn’t canceled. He had tried Craigslist looking for help a few times before, but most of the responders barely made it past his door after they got a look at him. While the failures had made him reluctant to try again, he was just desperate enough to hold out hope once more. 

For Spider-Man, it hadn't been a bad night, all things considered. He’d managed to stop a mugging and a B+E, and that was even before Deadpool showed up, eager to take down some bad guys. It was more than a little conflicting for Peter. On the one hand, it was nice to have help on patrol. While the Amazing Spider-Man had no trouble with low-level thugs and petty criminals, New York City was home to no end of creatively minded supervillains. And ninjas. He really hated the ninjas. Deadpool could make short work of a whole squad though, giggling and cracking wise the whole time, as though he was doing nothing more than racking up points in a video game.

Ugh, when was the last time Peter had had a free moment to relax and play a game or even watch a movie?

It hadn't been recently, as he'd spent every waking moment trying to work enough odd jobs so he could keep the heat on in his apartment, to say nothing of the rent itself. He'd combed every posting he could find online, for dog walkers, babysitters, anything—but most of them demanded more regular hours than he had to give, especially with most of his nights already booked. 

Wade finally put his phone away, figuring that at this point, things would either work out or they wouldn’t and he’d just find out once he got home. For now, he had a chance to pester the cutie with a booty in spandex. He popped over to his temporary partner and slung his arm around his shoulder, taking up as much personal space as he could. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Spidey?”

"Just trying to decide how much time I have for patrol tonight," he answered, already leaning out of the other man's arms. "Got an... appointment I need to get ready for. Probably best if I don't show up smelling like..." he gestured vaguely to the air. "...the city, I guess." 

"Aww, do ya’ really gotta go?" Wade pouted behind his mask, not wanting to lose his one distraction. He turned Spider-Man around and placed a hand on each shoulder, then took a quick sniff of the smaller man. "I dunno, I kinda like the scent." Leaning in a little closer, he sniffed again. "Oh wait, I think I smell hobo piss, maybe a shower will do you good," he said as he wrinkled his nose, bringing a hand up to rub at it. 

"Ugh!" Peter grimaced. "Do you always have to be so... touchy-feely?" He pushed against Wade's chest, backing away a few feet. "It's not my fault criminals seem to take a liberal view of hygiene. Maybe we should talk to the Avengers about recruiting Mr. Clean to their team. The city could use some actual scrubbing every once in a while."

Wade was grateful for the mask. Once again it hid the hurt he so often felt, but he squashed it before it became an issue. Not here, not now. 

"Oh, Mr. Clean would make a handy hero. Think he knows the secret to getting blood out?" He asked as he picked at a small fleck of blood splatter on his suit. 

"But yeah," Peter nodded, looking out into the night in the general direction of home. "I need to head out. Maybe you should call it a night as well. Go home, play some video games or something. That way at least one of us will be having a good night."

Deadpool tilted his head. "You don't seem too thrilled to be going to this appointment." He clapped his hands together. "Skip it and play video games with me!" 

It was tempting. Peter knew Wade was pretty much a bazillionaire give or take a few zillions, so he probably had a pretty sweet pad. The kind with central heating instead of a rickety radiator. And a widescreen TV. If he wasn't so badly in need of the cash...

"Can't," He answered frankly. "I said I'd be there, so I'm gonna be there. Can't have yet another person in the city thinking I'm an unreliable slouch." 

"Please, like only one person thinks that, and honestly I'd love to punch right him in the mustache for that." Wade waved his hands in a shooing motion. "Alright then, off with ya. Go be a good civilian." 

It certainly didn't make the rest of Peter's night look any more appealing, but hearing Deadpool ushering him away did make it easier to face the music.

"Alright, alright. I'm going." He headed for the precipice of the building they'd paused on, getting ready to swing home, but paused, turning to Wade for a second before taking off.  
  
"Thanks for your help tonight. You did good."  
  
"Aww, shucks. Thanks, Webs." Deadpool grinned as he watched Spider-Man swing off.  
  
Once the other man was out of sight, Wade let his shoulders drop as his nerves flared back up. At least he wasn't too far from home. He vaulted down the side of the building, rolling with his landing because he didn't have time to let his knees heal from a superhero landing.  
  
His mind raced as he managed to keep himself from running. He had no reason to rush. He glanced at his phone again, but it had only been ten minutes since he last checked the time.  
  
Wade entered his building, waving at the doorman. He had already informed her that he would be expecting company, so he just kept walking to the elevator. It was nice living in a place he could waltz into while still in full attire. He had splurged getting this place so he could sleep easy at night. No one asked questions and everyone kept to themselves. He did know everyone that lived in the building nonetheless. It was his job to know things, and he wouldn't treat his neighbors any differently.  
  
The elevator let him out right next to his place. He let himself in, deactivating his alarm system before making his way past the living room and kitchen, down the little hallway that led to the bathroom and two bedrooms. Wade stopped a moment at one door and tested the knob. It was locked. He had a habit of forgetting sometimes. The last thing he wanted to do with someone new was explain away his death room. It was pretty morbid he supposed, but he found it was better to contain the chaos than leave a brainy, bloody mess in his living room or bed.  
  
He reached his bedroom and quickly stripped down, putting his suit away to clean later. A quick sniff told him he smelt as bad as Spider-Man had. He chuckled and grabbed some jeans and a tank top before heading to the bathroom, opting for a longer shower than normal, trying to wash away his nerves, but it failed to help.  
  
Wade finally left the bathroom, towel still on his head, but he could still hear the ping of his ever-present cellphone, letting him know that at any moment, company would arrive. 

* * *

Peter rushed to his apartment as quickly as he could, thanking his lucky stars that he didn't run into any other incidents on his way. His schedule might be tight, but he couldn't very well look the other way while someone was in danger. It was the kind of thing that kept him up at nights; wondering about the people he hadn't seen or heard, people who could have used Spider-Man's help...  
  
But there was no use dwelling on it now. Right now _Peter Parker_ was the one who needed his own help, holding the tiny pieces of his life together.  
  
He slipped into his apartment, showering so quickly not even his busted water heater had a chance to run cold. There were even a few minutes to spare for the hair dryer — a good thing too—since the temperature was already starting to drop as the winter months rolled in. Even though he knew next to nothing about the person he was meeting tonight, he was pretty sure showing up with a runny nose would make a bad first impression.  
  
Donning a reasonably nice (if timeworn) hoodie and a comfortable pair of jeans, he headed out to the address he'd been given, reading over the entirety of the ad again as he checked his phone.  
  
_Male seeking: Any gender 18+ for 1 hour+ evening companionship. $200 to start, negotiable at time of meeting._  

It wasn't a lot to go on, and Peter wasn't naive enough to imagine it didn't involve _some_ kind of sex stuff. Possibly weird sex stuff. After all, there were scores of people online willing to meet up and have anonymous sex for _free_ so he had to imagine that this person was looking for something more if they were willing to shell out that kind of cash.  
  
It didn't really matter. He was broke, desperate, and if worse came to worse he knew he could get himself out of a risky situation. At least he was keeping someone more vulnerable away from a potential weirdo?  
  
"Right, because throwing on spandex every night and running around the city makes you totally normal, Parker."  
  
A train ride and a few blocks later he approached a stately apartment building. Peter double and triple checked the address, sure it couldn't be the right place. Still, he managed to slip into the front door and was greeted by a somber, but very dutiful security guard.  
  
"Uh..." Peter stammered, remembering the password he'd been given. "My anaconda don't want none?"  
  
"Unless you got buns." The guard nodded, directing him to the elevator at the far wall. "Floor nine."  
  
Peter nodded, feeling less and less sure of what he'd gotten himself into, but he stepped into the elevator anyway, trying to even out his breaths as a soft chime announced the passing of each floor. The door opened, putting him right in front of the apartment he was supposed to be at, with just a minute or two to spare.  
  
Exhaling deeply, Peter closed his eyes and knocked. 

The knock finally came. Wade tugged down the towel resting atop his head an inch or two, reminding himself to breathe. He took a moment, using every single thing he had learned to slow his heart rate. He had to prepare himself, just in case the person at the door had a last minute change of heart. Not that he would blame them.  
  
He kept the towel on his head, one more thing he could hide behind while he gauged their reaction.  
  
The door opened to reveal a young man, brown eyes piercing through his nerves already. The cool air ran over his skin, but he wasn’t sure it was the cause of the goosebumps that popped up on the parts of his skin that managed to remain unscarred.  
  
“Peter?” He asked, voice as monotone as he could make it. 

Peter stared at the man—or more accurately, he stared at the man's absurdly well defined pectoral muscles, because they were just about at eye level to him. It wasn't often he was caught off guard. Even forgetting his spider-sense, Peter was a chronic overthinker at heart and as such, he'd spent countless hours trying to imagine and mentally prepare for whatever sort of person was on the other side of the door. A new divorcee. A businessman with more money than time.  
  
What he was not expecting was to be face to face (or at least torso) with some kind of bodybuilder sporting a wide array of unique scars and a voice that was somehow familiar...  
  
_Security will greet you at the door. They know to expect you, just give 'em the password and they'll let you right up. You know all the words to Baby Got Back, right? - WWW_ _  
_  
He hadn't thought anything of it at the time. The initials could have meant anything at all. But if he'd had to guess a hundred thousand times, Peter would never have imagined they belonged to _Wade flipping Wilson._

Wade stood stock still as he waited for the verdict. He watched as the younger man’s eyes widened but they seemed to look everywhere but his face. His nerves were on edge, but he kept them from making an outward appearance.

"Uh, yeah... yeah that's me..." Peter’s mind was already doing mental gymnastics. Should he leave? Stay? How long had he been staring at Wade's chest?

When Peter finally spoke, it wasn’t one of the typical responses of ‘Oh God!’ or ‘Gross.’ that he was used to. It gave Wade a sliver of hope, but it was squashed as he realized how tense Peter was, and how he very subtly shifted on his feet. The boy clearly debating whether he wanted to stay.

Oddly enough the fact that it was _Deadpool_ who had posted the ad made Peter feel a little safer. Sort of, anyway. After all, even though Deadpool was basically the poster child of "trigger happy", he kept his more homicidal tendencies to people who deserved it. The kind of scum that even Spider-Man had a hard time defending without feeling sick to his stomach. So it stood to reason he probably hadn't posted an ad to drag some unsuspecting fool to his place just so he could kill them. It was probably safe to stay.  
  
That didn't mean it was a _good idea_ , of course... but Peter was too perplexed now. He had to know what was going on. Just what was Deadpool up to?  
  
"Can I come in?"

Wade had been about to offer Peter an out when he surprised him with the question. He couldn’t keep the look of surprise from his face but managed to morph it into a small smile. He stepped back, motioning Peter in. Once he was, Wade closed the door, leaving it unlocked, just in case Peter changed his mind. He wouldn’t force him to do anything he absolutely didn’t want to do.  
  
As he led the way to the couch, Wade motioned to the coat rack. “You’ll get hot fast in here if you stay in your coat.” He’d stayed quieter than he normally would, as to not  scare off a potential partner at first, but he would only be able to go so long before his sonorous nature came forward full force. 

This was... _different_ , Peter thought to himself. Where was the madcap, zany, pop-culture encyclopedia in the red suit he'd come to know as Spider-Man? He felt like he was sitting down for a job interview rather than answering an online ad of dubious terms. But if he wanted answers, he was going to have to sit through whatever it was Wade had to say. 

“When you’re ready, join me on the couch, and we’ll discuss what I had in mind for the evening.” Wade kept his voice even as he spoke, sitting on the edge of the couch near the armrest, making sure to give Peter plenty of space when he joined him. 

Peter shuffled his coat off, folding it over the back of the sofa before taking a seat somewhere in the middle—leaving a respectable distance between the two of them, but without cramming himself as far as he could from where Wade was sitting.  
  
"This is all a little new for me," he admitted, hoping a little honesty might diffuse some of the obvious tension. "I don't usually make a habit of answering these kinds of ads so uh..." he shrugged, and gave Wade a nervous smile. "You're just going to have to let me know what you expect." 

Wade realized he still had the towel on his head and pulled it off, setting it on the nearby coffee table. He looked over, taking in Peter. He had an effortless handsomeness to him that most would probably overlook because of his messy hair and tired face, but Wade’s trained eyes couldn’t miss.  
  
“I’m not looking for anything sexual this evening.” He shifted his body, angling it more towards Peter, taking a deep breath. “As you can see, I’m not the easiest person to look at, much less be intimate with, and as such, I’m a little…” he hesitated, it’d been a while since he’d admit it out loud. “...touch starved.”  
  
He looked down at his hands in his lap, curling his fingers into fists. “I’m just asking for things like hand holding, cuddling, things of that nature.”  
  
He did hold off on the last thing he wanted to ask, waiting to see how Peter would react to his initial idea. 

Despite the fact that Wade was as still as he'd ever seen him, and was barely speaking above a whisper, Peter had a hard time handling the amount of surprising information suddenly being dropped in his lap. He'd never seen Wade's face bare and open like this before, and though its rough angry scars were about what he'd expected from the glimpses of skin he'd seen before, Peter hadn't ever expected the boisterous mercenary to look so... sad.  
  
He was still recovering from the shock when Wade began to explain himself, and that even more difficult to process. Was it true? When they were on patrol, Wade had no problem making comments that were so bold they could barely be considered innuendo — and he latched onto Spider-Man as often as he could without getting webbed to the nearest wall, and sometimes even that didn't deter him. Was it all for attention? Or just the desperate actions of a very lonely man? Either way, Peter was starting to understand a little better.  
  
"Okay," he nodded, shoulders relaxing as some of the tension left his body. "I have to admit I was a little apprehensive this might be a weird sex thing... but what you're asking for..." he thought about it for a few seconds. Would it be the worst thing in the world to spend an evening with Deadpool, providing some much needed human contact (in an apartment much nicer and warmer than his own)? He couldn't think of a reason to say no.  
  
Well, that wasn't exactly true. Peter could think of plenty of reasons, but none of them seemed to hold much water when he measured them against the anguished look of embarrassment on Wade's face.  
  
"Yeah. I... or _we_ , I guess I should say..." He reached out, covering Wade's tightly fisted hand with his own. "We can do that." 

Wade couldn’t help his smile that spread as Peter agreed. He relaxed his hand and took Peter’s, rubbing a thumb over his smooth skin. He wanted to enjoy the contact before he risked losing it with the last part of his request.  
  
“There’s one more thing. It might not be sexual, but my request still has a weird part to it.” Wade could feel his cheeks heat up and wished he was still wearing his mask. It was easier to be open with it on, but he could ramble on with or without it. “There is a superhero I _may_ have a crush on, but since I know it’ll never come to be anything, I was wondering if you’d wear their costume while we were together? Help me fulfill that little fantasy of mine?” Wade met Peter’s eyes, trying not to be too hopeful, but the other man was already proving to be a potentially great partner. 

 _That_ was a bit of a surprise, and it did add another layer to things. It gave Peter a brief flicker of discomfort in his stomach, but he realized it was regular, everyday anxiety, and not his spider-sense telling him something was wrong.  
  
It could be worse, he supposed. Wade could be asking for him to wear a maid's costume, or dress up like a magical unicorn princess. It wasn't as though Peter was unaware of all the superhero fandom message boards out there. Half the city probably had _some_ kind of fantasy about Captain America.  
  
"It's not Thor, is it? Everyone is crazy about Thor. I'm just not sure I can fill out the costume." He half-heartedly flexed one arm. "And I am pretty sure I'd look terrible as a blonde. But I guess we can't all be worthy." 

“While he is a tantalizing sight, no, it’s not Thor. Though you do have a pretty damn close build to who I have in mind.” Wade grinned, finally feeling himself relax a lot.  
  
He stood up, reluctantly letting go of Peter’s hand. “Wait here, I’ll go get the suit.”  
  
He made his way to his room and pulled the familiar costume out of his closet. He had made it a while ago when he first started looking for a partner. (He could sew very well thank you very much. He’d even designed his own suit, even if it did take a few tries to get the details just right.) Trying to decide on what measurements had been tricky, but he’d decided to try and make it as close to Spidey’s own build as he could, though he was certain some parts were probably too big. He’d also used a stretchy, but sturdy material so that it could fit a few different body types since he’d also not be sure of his partner’s gender.  
  
As he walked down the hallway, he began to speak again. “I do certainly hope you’re a fan of New York’s favorite wall crawler.” His smile had him scrunching his eyes closed as he held out the suit and mask once he reached the living room. 

Peter's eyes widened as he watched Wade approach with the suit, and he quickly started to scan the room for any sign of a hidden camera or SHIELD agents lurking behind the furniture. Somehow Deadpool had figured out his identity and had lured him here to humiliate him or try and extort money from him or _something_ Peter couldn't even begin to imagine.  
  
_This_ was why he didn't let people get close, even those who weren't mentally unstable mercenaries. God, how much did Wade know? Was May safe? MJ? Everyone at the Bugle?

When Wade didn’t get an immediate response, his smile fell and he pulled the suit back towards him. Peter looked a little panicked. It was subtle, but Wade could see his eyes darting around.  
  
Had he pushed him too much? Maybe Peter was second-guessing himself, now that he had a moment to think it over. Wade wouldn’t really blame him if he’d finally decided to bolt.

Meanwhile, Peter was wondering if he could still salvage the situation... play dumb... make Wade think he'd made a mistake.  
  
"Spider-Man?" He asked, painfully aware of his voice cracking. "He's okay I guess. You uh... you’re a big fan then?" 

Wade took a deep breath when he realized Peter wasn’t about to go running. He wanted to defuse the sudden tension, though he wasn’t quite sure how.  
  
“I definitely started out as a big fan,” he said as he set the suit on the table then sat back down on the couch, making sure he gave Peter space. “I’ve had the good fortune of meeting him a few times. He’s a pretty awesome person, and getting to know him…” Wade glanced down at the suit, soft smile on his face, “He was one of the first in a long time to not immediately shut me out.”

Wade turned back to Peter. “Look, if the suit is too much, or if the whole thing is too weird, you don’t have to do it. The intimacy kinda loses its appeal if both people aren’t into it. I don’t like forcing people beyond their comfort zone.”  
  
He grinned and rubbed at the back of his head. “I push a little with my few friends, but I do stop when they really don’t want the attention. I’m a handsy guy, I can’t help myself.”  
  
Wade glanced back at the suit, thinking about earlier in the day when he’d invade Spider-Man’s space. Spidey put up with it to a degree, but he knew he really pushed the boundaries there, he just couldn’t help himself around the man.  
  
“I had thought about asking friends, but it’s kinda hard to admit the whole… touch starved thing… especially since some people think or even expect it to lead to something more.”  
  
Wade suddenly clammed up, realizing he was rambling and hadn’t even given Peter a chance to respond. 

Peter studied the suit, now lying slack and wrinkled on the table, its eyes staring up at him like it was patiently waiting for an answer. He would be the first to admit, his treatment of the brash and often obnoxious Deadpool was far from kind. He _tolerated_ the man, especially because it seemed to directly influence a swift downturn in Deadpool's more violent tendencies. Maybe he'd never said the words aloud, but there _was_ some part of him that thought maybe he was helping Wade. Because that's what heroes were supposed to do. That's what _Spider-Man_ was supposed to do.  
  
And wasn't that all Wade was asking for now? A little help?  
  
Peter's mouth opened as he prepared to ask why Wade hasn't just asked the real Spider-Man for some one-on-one time, but his lips snapped shut as he realized the man had done exactly that, only to be shut down by the hero. Right now, Peter wasn't feeling very heroic.  
  
"You don't have to explain," he sighed, running a hand over the smooth fabric of the costume. He had to hand it to Wade, he certainly had an eye for detail. "I know what it's like, having to keep things from people. Even the ones who are supposed to be close to us."  
  
He closed his eyes, just long enough to breathe in and out and tell himself he wasn't about to make a huge mistake.  
  
"So, you got a bathroom or some place for me to change?" 

Wade lit up like a Christmas tree, bringing his hands, clasped, to his face. He may have also let out a bit of a squeal in happiness that Peter was willing to give his idea a chance.  
  
“Right, right, yes, the bathroom is the down the hall to the left.” He stood and moved to the edge of the hallway and pointed.  
  
“Take all the time you need. I’ll get things set up in here.” Wade began to move toward the kitchen. “Oh, two questions: what can I get you to drink and what kinds of movies do you like?” 

Peter wasn't much of a drinker and it would probably be suspicious if he downed a few beers without showing any signs of inebriation. He was already feeling in over his head with having to spend the evening as Spider-Man pretending to be a guy pretending to be Spider-Man. He didn't want to have to keep up another part of the ruse.  
  
"Just water," he suggested. "But no ice. I'm still a little chilly from outside. And uh... I'm good with anything. I don't have a chance to get out to the movies too often so if it's anything from the last five years, chances are it's on my 'to watch' list." That didn't sound as helpful as he'd intended it to be. "I uh... like sci-fi?" He added at last. 

Wade nodded, “I’m sure I can find us something to watch, then.”  
  
He headed to the kitchen, getting a glass of water, no ice (he liked his that way most of the time as well), and a soda for himself.  
  
As he made his way back to the living room in front of his TV, he tried to think of what good sci-fi movies had come out in the last few years. He scrolled through a list, and spotted ‘Arrival’. He enjoyed movies that messed with time in some form, particularly as a time and dimensional hopper himself.  
  
He got the movie ready to play once they were situated, and set the remote on the table, next to the drinks. He picked up Peter’s coat and put it on the coat rack and grabbed a blanket from the linen closet before returning to sit on the edge of the couch, fidgeting while he waited. 

Behind a closed and locked bathroom door, Peter studied the costume a little closer. It didn't have a tag on it like the ones he'd seen sold online. (A part of him wished he had a way to capitalize on royalties so he could at least afford a Netflix account.) Closer inspection revealed the suit had been handmade, presumably by Wade himself. It was pretty impressive, all things considered, but with the amount of damage Wade took on a daily basis, it stood to reason he'd honed considerable skills when it came to suit construction and repair.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Peter started to shed his clothing and pull on the suit. It fit, in the way that most "one size fits all" garments did, although he noticed it felt a little loose between the legs. He blushed despite himself, realizing that maybe Wade's imagination had gotten away with him.  
  
He looked back in the mirror and was shocked at how familiar the sight greeting him was. If the sink had been a little grimier, towels a little older, shower a lot smaller, he might as well have been in his own bathroom getting ready for patrol. It didn't mean he could relax though. He had to make sure he did his job here tonight without doing or saying anything that might tip Wade off. He just hoped he didn't slip up... for both their sakes.  
  
Yanking the mask down before he could think better of it, he stepped back out into the hallway and into the living room.  
  
"So," he said, announcing himself. "What are we watching?" 

Wade definitely did _not_ jump a little when he heard Peter’s voice. He turned towards him and his heart skipped a beat. Peter looked divine. The only way it could have been better was if… Wade stopped that thought before it could go any further. He wanted to be in the here and now. Right now he wanted to focus on Peter.  
  
Studying Peter a little longer, Wade moved towards him. “I picked Arrival, it’s one of my favorites from 2016.” He lifted his hands to the mask and tugged on it. It was subtle but he could tell he’d messed up the stitching somewhere along the line cause it didn’t sit quite right on Peter’s head. “Can you breathe okay in that? Don’t want you uncomfortable, so if you ever need to remove it, feel free to.”  
  
He took Peter’s hand and pulled him to the couch, eagerness getting the better of him. It seemed best to keep things simple for now, wrapping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulder, letting him decide just how much he wanted to lean into it. 

Maybe Peter had been wrong to be nervous. Maybe Wade really did just want some company, and (for better or worse) to be allowed to imagine that that person was his personal hero. That wasn't so bad, was it? Kids made up imaginary friends all the time, pretending to go on adventures with characters they'd invented who were tailor-made to cater to their own interests and personalities. This wasn't that different. Well, except that Wade was a grown man, and his imaginary friend was based on a real person. But if Peter had known that all Wade had ever really wanted from Spider-Man was to hang out and watch a couple of movies... maybe he would have made time.  
  
He settled into the sofa, shoulders jumping a little at the sudden weight of Wade's arm, but he reminded himself this was exactly what he'd signed up for.  
  
"Oh geez, has it been out for two years already? I could have sworn that was just earlier this year. I am falling _so_ far behind." 

“Yeah, time really can get away from you. I’ve lost weeks before due to…” Wade stopped himself, he didn’t need to bring up his bad mental health days.

Peter chanced a sideways glance to Wade's hand, which was hanging loosely over one of his shoulders, fingers twitching slightly with a nervousness he could tell the man was trying to hide.  
  
He closed his eyes behind his mask and scooted a little closer, so his side butted right up against Wade's, and he could feel the considerable body heat coming off the other man. It wasn't unpleasant, really, and Peter found himself surprised at how quickly the lingering chill was leaving his body.  
  
"This okay?"

Wade focused on Peter pressing into his side. He fit almost perfectly, but the tension they both still held from the unfamiliarity kept it from being so.  
  
“Yeah, it’s nice. Thank you, Peter,” he said before turning on the movie. He brought his hand up and tilted Peter’s head to give him a quick kiss on his forehead then turned his attention to the screen.

Not for the first time, Peter was thankful for the barrier his mask provided him, allowing him to keep his emotions from being read clear on his face. His career as a superhero would have ended a long time ago if Doc Ock or Rhino ever got a glimpse of the genuine fear that struck him when he found himself going head to head with them again.  
  
But it was a different sort of unease he felt as Wade tipped his fingers beneath his chin, and for a second he forgot he was here as Peter, rather than Spider-Man… or at least, not the real one. Things became even more clouded when he felt the quick brush of lips against his forehead— something he'd never experienced with Deadpool, and yet there was something oddly familiar about the gesture just the same. 

He eased himself against Wade's side at a slow and steady pace, at first keeping track of exactly where his head and shoulder were at any given moment, but soon losing track as he became more engrossed in the movie. Eventually his head was resting on Wade's shoulder, his body instinctively turning towards the warmth of another body until his chest was pressed up against Wade's side. 

As the movie played, Wade listened, but his eyes were unfocused. He was instead focused on the body heat and small movements coming from Peter. It was nice to have someone so close. 

He found himself lightly running his fingers over Peter’s upper arms, an unconscious choice at first, but once he realized what he was doing, he began to make shapes and letters. He was just enjoying being able to be close to someone and getting to touch them without being shoved away.  
  
He let his eyes wander from the movie to Peter eventually giving in for a moment, imagining it was Spider-Man curled into his side, that Spidey had returned his feelings, and was willing to give him more than the courtesy of tolerating him. Perhaps one day, if he was lucky enough, Spider-Man would at least consider him a friend.  
  
Wade tilted his body, leaning into the armrest and pulled Peter with him. One could only be so comfortable on a couch sitting straight up. His arm shifted from Peter’s shoulders to his waist, his hand falling just above Peter’s hip.  
  
His eyelids began to droop. Wade didn’t realize how tired he was, but he shouldn’t have been surprised, he hadn’t slept for nearly three days. He tried to stay awake, but his relaxed body wasn’t having it. 

Peter almost didn't notice the gradual decline of Wade's posture until there was a hand gently grazing his hip. He glanced up but was greeted only by the man's lax expression and soft snores. He couldn't blame him. Patrols were exhausting and Deadpool had mentioned more than once that he didn't adhere to a conventional sleep schedule. Still, it was strange that he was letting his guard down so easily in the presence of a stranger.  
  
Peter almost wondered if he should go, but he couldn't see a real reason to do so. He was comfortable and warm, and the movie was hardly half over. He could stay until the end, at least.  
  
He was in a slightly awkward position, however, so he moved carefully until his head was resting in Wade's lap, allowing him to stretch his legs out across the length of the sofa as he continued to watch the movie, a vague and secret smile slowly crossing his face. 

* * *

 _Wade was floating, lost, but he was okay with it. The sunset lit the sky in brilliant hues and lemon and tangerine, and the air was crisp as one could only find outside the city. He looked around, not quite spotting the ground, instead seeing two figures in the distance._ _  
_ _  
_ _He floated towards them. They took on the shape of Peter and Spider-Man, who both floated towards him as well. They smiled at him, well Peter smiled, but Spider-Man’s mask lifted in that slight way that it did when he grinned._ _  
_ _  
_ _But as he reached for them, a resounding thunder rolled over them and the sky was drained of its color. Drowned in darkness, Wade began to panic and tried to force himself to get to them faster, but he couldn’t move._ _  
_ _  
_ _Another deafening sound fell just as the other two collided, forming into one odd amalgamation of Peter and Spidey. Wade tried to call out for them, but his voice was gone. He watched in horror as tendrils of darkness shot out and wrapped around the amalgamation and dragged them down and away from Wade._

* * *

Peter had been engrossed in the movie when he felt Wade begin to stir. He pushed himself up to get a better look at the man, to make sure he hadn't overstepped his bounds or made him uncomfortable, but it was clear that Wade was in the throes of a terrible dream. He reached for his shoulder in hopes of shaking him out of it but didn't have a chance before Wade was suddenly shouting and up on his feet. 

“No!”  
  
Wade’s eyes snapped open but remained unseeing. He wasn't sure how, but he realized he was back in reality. His senses would catch up with his brain eventually. The first thing he was aware of was that he was standing stock still, but that didn’t last long as he fell to his knees, his hands finding the coffee table to support himself.  
  
The next thing he registered were the tears on his face. They’d stopped but he could feel the tightness the trails of tears left behind.  
  
Wade was reminded why it was so difficult for him to sleep. If not his insomnia, the nightmares kept him up. He blinked his eyes trying desperately to pull himself out of his pitiful state, but he could never tell how long it might take him to recover.  
  
For a second Peter thought he'd done something wrong, that Wade's outburst was directed at him, but his sudden collapse to the floor spoke of something else.  
  
"Wade?" He spoke softly, not sure what state of wakefulness the other man was in. "Hey, you okay? Bad dream?" 

Wade tensed when he registered he wasn’t alone. He knew deep down whoever it was wasn’t dangerous and that alone kept him from swinging. Instead, he moved his glazed eyes, noting familiar colors.  
  
“Spidey?” He asked, his voice weak from stress and sleep.

Immediately, Peter crouched on the floor beside him, taking a chance by placing one hand on the flat of his back as he yanked the mask of his borrowed costume up and over his brow. Though hearing Wade address him by superhero alter ego did ping on some level of Peter's own deep-seated anxiety, the fear was quickly calmed as Wade admitted his mistake.

“Shit, sorry, Petey.” Wade corrected. After seeing Peter’s face peeking out from beneath the mask everything finally crashed back to him in full clarity.  
  
He sat back on the floor, leaning against the couch, brought his feet in front of him and buried his head in his hands. That could have gone so much worse. If he had a blade within reaching distance, would he have accidentally stabbed Peter? Hell, he honestly didn't need a weapon; he _was_ a weapon.

Peter watched him carefully as he went through rapid motions of soothing himself, making it clear that nightmares were so common that they were practically a part of his routine. No wonder he didn't sleep much. Peter himself had gone through long stretches where visions of villains seemed to lurk behind every corner, making it hard to close his eyes for more than a second—he couldn't imagine what it must be like for Wade to have to endure that on a regular basis.

Wade glanced at him through his fingers, smiling despite everything, at the concern Peter was showing him. He relaxed just a hair, and pulled his hands away from his face, instead, using one of them to pull him gently into his lap and hug him to his chest. He wanted one more hug in before Peter inevitably decided this was all too weird to handle and left him alone again. 

Peter was still sorting out his own thoughts when Wade drew him close, and although he felt a momentary tension from being pressed against the other man so quickly, it soon ebbed from his body as he realized Wade was simply trying to find comfort any way he could.

Wade buried his head into the crook of Peter’s neck, taking in his scent, before speaking. It surprisingly calmed him more, the stress in his body slowly fading.  
  
“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, but it’s dangerous here with me. I nearly lashed out at you. It’s a common response from me when I wake up from nightmares, or if I’m in the middle of a mental episode.” He sighed and tilted his head. “After I’m one hundred percent in a few minutes, you’re welcome to go. You’ve certainly done more than anyone else has and I greatly appreciate it.”

"It's... it's okay." Peter spoke softly, feeling more awkward about not knowing what to say than his position in Wade's lap. "You didn't do any harm, didn't even look my way til you were awake."  
  
"Just take the time you need, I'm not in a rush to get out of here just yet." He glanced at the screen, where the DVD was still playing uninterrupted. "We haven’t even finished the movie yet." He gave a slight laugh, doing his best to help Wade feel a little more at ease. "But if you're ready for me to go... I mean, I don't want to overstay my welcome." 

Wade placed his chin on Peter’s shoulder and looked at the screen. 

“Huh, definitely felt like I was asleep for a lot longer.”

From what he knew of the movie, he estimated he had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. He watched it a few minutes more before speaking again.

“I don’t think you could ever overstay your welcome, I just want you to be safe.” He lifted a hand slowly towards Peter’s head, sliding it under the lifted mask and pulling it fully off, tossing it aside before returning to run a hand through the mess of hair. “My whole life is anything but safe. If my gun’s not pointed at someone, it’s probably pointed at me. Even I’m not safe from myself.” 

A shiver passed over Peter's skin as Wade reached up to slide his mask away, something he never would have allowed him to do when the two of them were on patrol. It was strange not having to hide his face, not having to hide _Peter_ from the other man at all. Without masks between them, Wade was also revealing more about himself than he'd ever dared, and Peter felt a guilty twinge in his chest that he'd gone so long without knowing about how deep his loneliness ran.

It took a moment but then it dawned on Wade what he had admitted, and he tensed back up. He hadn’t told Peter that he could regenerate, and usually anyone he admitted his suicidal tendencies to, whether they knew or not, never reacted well. He opted for the next best thing. Distraction.  
  
“Don’t you think that guy playing Ian looks kinda like Hawkeye? He’d be an awesome movie version of him for sure.” He grinned, dragging out a bit of his in-suit persona. “Plus they’re both highly bangable men.”

"Seems like the webbed wonder isn't the only one who's caught your eye!" Peter teased a little, taking his cues from Wade. Using humor to disguise fear and pain was a tactic he was well acquainted with, and he wasn't about to begrudge it to Wade now. "Hmm. I guess I can see a little resemblance. I'd need to see this guy in head to toe purple leathers first, though."

“I mean, a lot of the superheroes don’t have to wear those amazingly tight suits to show off their assets.” Wade chuckled. “Maybe they’ve all got some kind of unexplored kink we don’t know about. But who am I to judge?”

Peter couldn't really see the screen much anymore, with his head pressed against Wade's chest, except for a tiny sliver from the corner of his eye. But he found it didn't matter much; he was content to sit as he was, listening to the deep thrumming of Wade's heart as it gradually slowed from its rapid pounding to something a little closer to normal.  
  
"Is that what you're going to have me wear next time?" 

It was nice having Peter joke back with him. It felt natural and easy. But Wade’s eyes widened when he heard the question. He sat up straight and lifted Peter’s head to meet his eyes frowning slightly, as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle.  
  
“Next time?” He honestly hadn’t expected that to be a possibility. “Why would you want to be around me again?”  
  
Even though Peter was fine with things at the moment, Wade still couldn’t wrap his head around him being okay with visiting a second time. He understood that Peter was here for the money, it was the thing that he kept at the back of his mind to keep from getting attached, but he was sure the younger man could find other ways to earn a buck besides entertaining a lonely schmuck like him. 

"I'm not trying to rope you into a 2-year contract or anything." Peter offered a quick smile but had to look away under the power of Wade's searching gaze. He reached up, grabbing at some of the errant strands of his hair, combing his fingers through them to try and set them to some kind of order. "Just, y'know. If you nee- I mean if you wanted to give me a call again, I can think of worse ways to spend a few hours than watching movies with someone who needs a bit of company." 

Wade looked at Peter skeptically as he let go of his chin as he spoke.  
  
“You sure you got time to actually be spending with me then? You honestly seem as tired and stressed as I am, though probably for different reasons.” He tapped a playful finger on Peter’s forehead.

"Look I'm not... I'm not trying to imply that you weren't serious about your nightmares, or feeling disoriented when you wake up from one." It was easier for Peter to speak now, probably because he was able to speak freely of the truth. "I've had a lot of experience with dangerous people. I know how to take care of myself when I'm around someone who means me harm." He looked back to Wade, giving a soft shrug. "I just don't think you do."

Wade’s heart picked up speed at what Peter said, but instead of focusing on it, he decided to evade the tough emotional stuff in favor of familiar territory.  
  
“Who do you know that’s dangerous? Need me to deal with anyone for you? I can take care of them, y’know? I’ll even do it for free, just for you.” He told Peter, tightening his grip protectively. His tone was light but a razor’s edge of steel was hidden just beneath the surface. 

"No, no, it's nothing like that!" Peter refuted quickly. He should have known Deadpool would hone in on any mention of danger. "I think anyone can run into predatory personality types in any walk of life. I'm just good at picking them out of a crowd. It's a uh... sixth sense. Of a sort."

“Not gonna lie, that is a shitty sixth sense,” Wade murmured, sliding Peter off his lap. “But if you change your mind, lemme know.”

"And I..." Peter thought hard for a second. His schedule might not exactly give way for a nightly movie binge, but maybe there was a way to work it out. Earning some extra cash _would_ mean that he could take it a little easier with his freelance work, but he was starting to feel a little guilty, like he might be taking advantage of Wade.

Then again, nobody ever accused Peter of backing down from a challenge.  
  
"Maybe... if I can move a few things around... or multitask a little. If you don't mind me reading some of my textbooks while we hang out, or if we melded together mealtime with whatever else you have planned? That might help me loosen up my schedule a bit."

“We can definitely work something out, but textbooks, Petey? Whatcha studying?” Wade stood up, punched the button on the remote to stop the credits scrolling on the long-forgotten television and offered a hand to Peter to help him up. “And speaking of food, I can make us something to eat now if you’re hungry? At least let me feed you before you leave for the night.” 

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but his stomach chose that moment to let out a distinct gurgle. He realized he hadn't eaten anything since before going out on patrol that night, and now that he was thinking about it, the idea of a hot meal did sound incredibly appealing.  
  
"I guess... yeah. Probably a good idea to eat something. If it's not too much trouble. I mean, I can help, too! Assuming you're making spaghetti or instant curry." He gave Wade an overly toothy smile with a hint of a wince. Between college classes, working for the Bugle and hero business he didn't have a lot of time for things like cooking, cleaning, or folding the laundry so he wasn't just picking wrinkled t-shirts out of the clean pile. 

“You aren’t lifting a finger in my kitchen.” Wade playfully glared, lead the way to the kitchen. 

Peter followed him, trying to decide what to say about his coursework, but decided there was no harm in telling the truth. It would be one less lie to keep track of later.  
  
"I’m studying genetics mostly, but there's some Biochem in there, too. It's _a lot_ of reading. Maybe not as much as an English major or anything, but at least they get to read fiction from time to time. I can't remember the last time I read a book just for fun." 

Wade pointed out a stool for Peter to sit at near the island that also doubled as a stove in the middle of the kitchen. “So you’re a science nerd, I dig it. What drew you to genetics?” He moved around the kitchen gathering his supplies and setting them on the island and stood across from Peter. He set to cutting up a large bowl full of red potatoes and half of an onion. 

Before tonight, if you'd asked Peter what ten things he'd expected to find in Wade Wilson's kitchen, his answers would have danced between "eighteen varieties of frozen burritos" and "some poor sap tied to a chair mid-interrogation" a dozen times before he ever imagined fresh vegetables. And yet here was Deadpool, in the flesh chopping up ingredients with a skill Peter had rarely seen outside of a television screen.  
  
"Oh, uh... well I've always been into science. Since I was a kid. Classic nerdy loser with the coke bottle glasses to boot. You know, when you're a kid, science is all under one big umbrella. You're outside picking up neat rocks or pointing out constellations or catching tadpoles and half the time you don't even think of it as science, just goofing around.  
  
"I was raised by my aunt and uncle after my parents left, and I guess they wanted to encourage me from a young age. My uncle Ben..." Peter paused for a moment. He hadn't intended to dive this deeply into his past but found it hard not to. "He saved for months to buy me this microscope. It was instantly my most treasured possession. I was constantly shoving anything I could find onto the glass. Bit of leaves, my own hair... I think once I even took a closer look at my Aunt May's lasagna." He laughed.  
  
"I got really interested in the way cells worked, how they interacted with one another and, um... how they could change. Over time." He cleared his throat a little. "I guess you could say the bug really bit me when I was in high school, and it's been that way ever since." 

Wade finished up prepping the vegetables and set the skillet to warm as Peter talked. It was pleasant hearing him tell stories about his family but understood the hesitation when he mentioned his uncle by name. After all, he barely knew Wade, but it seemed he was just as bad about letting personal things slip. Wade gave him a smile of reassurance.

“Have you had a chance to look into mutates or mutant cells yet? I bet they are fascinating.” He lifted his hand, looking at it. “Well, most of them anyway, I’m sure.” He turned his attention back to the now warmed skillet adding in the sausage to brown. 

They were dancing around some tricky territory now, but Peter imagined Wade's question was more from personal curiosity than a real attempt to pick apart Spider-Man's identity, so he felt no reason not to answer honestly.  
  
"A bit, yeah." He nodded. "Even though mutants have been around for a few decades, it's a surprisingly unexplored field. Historically speaking, most work to do with mutants and mutates was shut down in its infancy, either because institutions believed them to be a temporary phenomenon, or because people didn't like what the research was showing.  
  
"In the end, a lot of the most useful research has been done by the mutant community itself. Like Charles Xavier's work exploring the timeline and widespread nature of mutations. In some ways it's an exciting prospect, to be a part of the first wave of proper research in the field.  
  
"That uh..." he stopped himself, realizing he'd been rambling for quite some time, and Wade was probably just being polite. "That smells really good. You sure I can't help?" 

Part of Wade was curious what Xavier would think about someone like Peter and his research, as the old man did favor mutants over humans, even though he said he wanted a world of equality. Of course, he hadn’t talked to any of the X-Men lately, so he wasn’t even sure if Xavier was still alive. He did have a habit of faking his death.  
  
He stopped moving the sausages from the pan to the cutting board and pointed the tongs he was using towards Peter.  
  
“You keep your pretty little face right where it is, mister.” He snapped the tongs playfully at him. “I got this.” He finished removing the sausages and put the vegetables in the pan to cook. 

Peter snorted at the alligator snap of Wade's tongs, the action seeming more in line with someone's grandma than the hulking form of the man in front of him.  
  
“So, you have any idea what kind of job you’ll want once you’re done with schooling? Have you tried looking for an internship? I could think of a few places you could apply to.” Of course, Wade’s first thoughts were of organizations like AIM or HYDRA, but Peter didn’t seem the type that would take to applying his knowledge towards those sorts of goals. Stark Industries was another possibility. He made a face as he stored the vegetables. Peter might like it there, but Wade would prefer not to have to ask a favor of Tony, the douchenozzle.

"Um... sort of. I mean, I don't really want to leave the city. I know it's cliche but I really love New York, y'know?" He looked out Wade's kitchen window into the night sky, seeking out the glow of the city lighting from its furthest corners. "I feel like I could live here my entire life and still not know all of its secrets.” 

Wade sliced the sausages up, and chopped tomatoes, piling them together to put back into the pan after the potatoes cooked a little longer.  
  
“I’m not sure I can say the same, but then, I’m not from New York. I grew up in Canada, though most of my memory from my childhood is fuzzy at best.” He stirred the potatoes as he spoke. “But I have come to enjoy New York nonetheless. It’s a good hub for my job and there is a handful of people who tolerate me on occasion, but most of them are co-workers of sorts.” 

Peter nodded, thinking about some of the people he’d worked with at the Bugle. They were fine, for the most part, but not really the sort of people he could imagine spending a night out with. “There are definitely some places in town I've had my eye on, but right now I don't think I can afford to be an unpaid lab monkey, no matter how prestigious the zoo."

Wade let out a laugh at Peter’s description. “I don’t think I’ve heard anything so accurate. Though, there has got to be a paid internship hiding out there somewhere.” He made a mental note to suck it up and pester Tony. Maybe he could find Peter something so he didn’t have to answer Craigslist ads. Not everyone was a good person behind the screens (himself included). 

"Ha, maybe there's some stone I haven't turned over yet." Peter smiled. "But my odds of actually landing it will be greatly improved once I get my masters... or Ph.D. A guy can dream anyway." He laughed a little, the uncertain future of his scientific career feeling a little less dismal now that he was able to talk about it with a friend.  
  
And Wade _was_ a friend, wasn't he? Even if he didn't know it. Peter would have to rectify that as soon as possible.

“You seem like a bright guy, I’m sure you’ll get that Ph.D. in no time,” Wade told Peter, while he added the sausages, tomatoes and some herbs. “Almost done.” 

"For an out of towner, you certainly seem to be doing well for yourself." Peter gestured vaguely to the relative luxury of Wade's apartment. 

Wade shrugged his shoulders. “My job pays well, what can I say. Plus I get to travel a lot which is a lot of fun. Though, who knows, maybe one day I’ll finally find a permanent place in the world and the two of us will be like you and New York, inseparable.”  
  
He walked to his cabinets, pulling out plates and cutlery. “Could you go grab the drinks we left in the living room?”  
  
After Peter left for the other room, Wade began plating the meal, but just as he got some food on one plate, he realized too late the plate was on the edge and his full hands weren’t gonna make it. Despite his efforts to steady it, he was left helpless as he watched it smash to the floor.  
  
He grabbed the small trash can from under the sink and quickly picked up the larger chunks. Too quickly, it seemed, as he got a nasty gash over his hand. He was unphased by the blood as he moved to the sink to wash it off while it healed up. 

Peter was already on his way back to the kitchen when he heard the shatter of ceramic against the kitchen tile. He immediately hurried back, fearing Wade might have had another lapse or momentary hallucination jolting him out of the brief calm they'd both been enjoying.  
  
Seeing the trash can and smears of food still clinging to the floor, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened, but the faint trail of blood in the mess didn't go undetected.  
  
"You're hurt," Peter said dumbly, quickly setting down the glasses and rushing over to Wade, catching a glimpse of pinkish water swirling down the drain. He grabbed some paper towels from the counter, already making ready to help apply pressure to whatever cut Wade had suffered, but as he reached out to offer his help, he realized Wade's healing factor had already taken care of the problem. 

Wade had hoped he’d be done and back to cleaning before Peter got back, but he wasn’t so lucky. His heart did skip a beat though as Peter had hurried to his side with paper towels, ready to assist.  
  
"Oh,” said Peter quietly, feeling a little stupid for forgetting who he was dealing with and what his mutation was capable of. "Guess you have things under control." He turned and set to the task of cleaning up the rest of the mess from the floor, scooping up the smaller shards with his towel and throwing them away. 

Wade was instantly puzzled. He was certain Peter had seen the last bit of the cut stitch itself together, and he honestly wasn't sure how to respond to his lack of reaction.  
  
“You sure are oddly calm at seeing someone’s hand healing itself almost instantly,” he said, crouching down to Peter’s level where he cleaned, but just watched him. “People usually flip out once they see.”  
  
Something dark settled into the pit of Wade’s stomach. Maybe it was shock and Peter just needed a moment to process. No, he was probably grossed out but not willing to say anything. He was too sweet that way, Wade was learning. Standing up, Wade returned back to the cabinet and pulled out a new plate, giving Peter space and a chance to process.  
  
“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said quietly and he turned back to the island, setting the plate securely this time. He placed both hands on the countertop, hanging his head.  
  
“You don’t have to stay if it weirds you out.” It was an automatic response even though he knew in the back of his head that there was a strong chance Peter could be fascinated. After all, they had just spoken about mutates. But the part of him that didn’t trust people’s reactions was stronger, more vocal in his head. 

Peter knew he had to tread carefully here, making sure Wade understood he didn't have a problem with his powers, while still keeping his own abilities under wraps, although even that was starting to make him feel guilty.  
  
"I don't think it's weird," he answered at last, cleaning up the last of the mess from the floor. "People who take their burgers apart to eat each ingredient separately are _weird_ . You're just... special."  
  
"I'm actually a little worried you might _want me_ to go," Peter admitted. "Because of what I said before... about my studies? I don't want you to think that I see you as anything other than..."

Wade looked over at Peter as he spoke. He shook his head in disbelief and stood up straight.  
  
“No, I _want_ you to stay and I _want_ you to _want_ to stay, but I don’t _expect_ you to. No one ever does.” He looked over to where Peter stood. “I want to build some trust here, and making sure the people with me know they have an out is important to me.” 

 _Trust._ That thing that Peter held very dear, and yet was sadly lacking from so many of his relationships. Even if it was out of necessity to keep the innocent people of his daily life out of harm's way, he couldn't ignore the invisible barrier that kept him from ever getting close to people the way he wanted. Even the other heroes he worked with didn't seem to fully understand his need for secrecy, keeping him at arm's length when they were on missions together. Peter couldn't say he blamed them.

"Well, mutations and evolution are fascinating fields of studies. But mutants and mutates, they're all people first. And no one should be solely defined by whatever powers or abilities they possess."

“Frankly, if you wanted to study me, I would gladly be your open book.” Wade smirked, wiggling his hairless eyebrows. “Most people don’t ask to study me, they just take. _That_ is frustrating.”

"As far as I can tell, Wade, you're a lonely guy with good taste in movies, maybe a liiiitle bit of hero worship when it comes to the Avengers, who has just dished up the best looking meal I've seen in a long time."  
  
Wade couldn’t resist Peter’s adorableness any longer and gently pulled him into a hug. “Seems you got the basic gist of me.”

Even with arms wrapped around him, Peter could sense that it would take nothing more than a stiff shoulder for Wade to release him. What was unexpected was just how content he felt staying right where he was. 

Wade looked down at him and with a soft smile. “Could I kiss you?”

The question took Peter by surprise, but he realized it was a fairly tame request since he'd agreed to come here expecting much worse. After a rather enjoyable evening, the idea of kissing Wade wasn't exactly _unappealing_ . And there was something so vulnerable, so unguarded about the way Wade had asked, resigned to rejection but willing to hope nonetheless. It was so uniquely _Wade Wilson_ that Peter found himself a little stunned by it all.  
  
"Yeah," Peter whispered, a gentle smile crossing his lips as he nodded up at Wade. "That would be alright." His eyes flickered back to the living room for a fraction of a second, part of him wary about the question he was about to ask.  
  
"Do you need me to... I mean, I don't mind... If you want me to wear the mask?" 

Wade let out a soft laugh, leaning his forehead on Peter’s.  
  
“You’re amazing, you know that? No, Don’t worry about the mask for now.”  
  
He lifted his hand to Peter’s chin and lifted his face to angle it better as he closed what little distance he had. To be honest, he had forgotten about Spidey for a moment, even with Peter still wearing most of the cosplay outfit. Right now, he wanted a kiss from Peter, not Spider-Man.  
  
Peter’s lips were a stark contrast to his own, smooth and soft. He kept his kiss light, but knew instantly he could lose hours to those lips. His hand slid up, cupping Peter’s cheek as he deepened the kiss slightly before pulling back.

Peter had never given any thought to what it would be like to kiss Deadpool, just as he'd never spent much time imagining what he'd do if he was a millionaire CEO of his own company. Both were equally as unlikely, and he was usually too busy trying to solve the very real problems he _did_ have.  
  
To say that the suddenness of the kiss came as a surprise was true, as was the tenderness of the lips against his own. For some reason, Peter had half expected the kiss to be like an encounter with the Tasmanian Devil, but Wade was so gentle it was hard to believe this was even the same man he'd spent all those nights with on patrol.  
  
And then there was the matter of the mask — or rather, the lack thereof. Peter had never in his _life_ known anyone that would rather kiss Peter Parker than lock lips with his heroic alter ego. After all the trouble Wade had gone through to make the costume and get someone to wear it, could this really be what he wanted? 

Wade was a bit reluctant to go in for a second kiss, but before he could make the decision, Peter’s stomach reminded him why they were in the kitchen to begin with. He couldn’t help the laugh he let out as he pulled away.

“Let’s eat, baby boy.” He paused at the slip. He hadn’t wanted to give Peter a nickname just yet, but it seemed he couldn’t help himself. He glanced back at him. “You okay with that nickname?” As he waited for Peter’s answer, he finished plating their food. 

There was precious little time for mulling things over once the kiss was broken, and Peter found himself sucking in a shock of breath before Wade guided him back to the table.

"Oh," Peter mumbled, still reeling, but he quickly found his footing again. "This is the part where I'm supposed to say something clever and seductive like, 'I can be whoever you want me to be', right?" He gave a crooked but genuine smile. "It's fine, certainly a lot better than most of the names I've been called over the years." 

“Well, all I need from you at the moment is to be Peter and eat up,” Wade replied, tapping his fork on the edge of his plate.  
  
It’d only been a couple hours since they’d met but it felt more like a couple of days to Wade. He and Peter seemed to click in a way he hadn’t with anyone else for a very long time. He certainly hoped they could keep the arrangement going for a while. Speaking of which…  
  
“When do you think you could visit next?” Wade poked at his food, a smidge of nerves making themselves known. “I do have to leave town in about about a week if you can do something again before that? Or we can wait til I get back.” 

"Oh, uh..." Peter had been so caught up in the events of the evening, he hadn't given much thought to any future visits, other than being sure he wanted them to happen.  He did have a lot to do in coming days, but as he sifted through the various assignments and due dates on the horizon, they were dull and out of focus. Wade's presence, on the other hand, was vivid, sharp and immediate.  
  
"Maybe next Tuesday? Especially if you don't mind me bringing along an assignment that needs finishing up." Even as he said the words he knew it didn't sound like a great offer, but he didn't want to leave Wade hanging until he came back from wherever he was going, especially because he knew his missions could take weeks or longer. 

Wade tapped the handle of the fork on his chin, working on remembering when exactly he had to leave for his job.  
  
“Hmm, yeah, I can do that. It’ll be the last night before I head out. Go ahead and bring your stuff, I don’t mind.”  
  
Drumming an unsteady beat with his fork against his plate, he took a moment to consider his next question. “Would you mind… staying the night that night?” 

It wasn't an entirely unreasonable request, nor was it unexpected. Even in the original ad Peter had answered there wasn't a specified duration, and he was a little surprised it hadn't come up before.  
  
"I have to be at class by ten on Wednesday," he explained. "So I can't linger too long in the morning. But your place is closer to campus than mine so, yes? Only... can I sleep in my own clothes? The uh... spandex doesn't really breathe well." He plucked at the body of the suit, pulling it an inch or two from his chest before it snapped back into place. 

Wade nodded, “I can make sure you’re up, I have to leave before ten.”  
  
But then the rest of what Peter said registered in his mind. Wade turned from his food and smirked, lifting an eyebrow ridge.  
  
“Sounds like you have more experience with spandex than I would have guessed. Is there something you’re not telling me, baby boy?” He asked teasingly. With a small chuckle, he continued, “Yeah, no, you won’t need to sleep in the suit.” 

"That's a relief," Peter smiled, turning his attention back to his plate. "I mean, this is a nice suit and all, but with the zipper down the back it seems a tiny bit inconvenient if I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom." Realizing he'd somehow wandered into the questionable territory of toilet humor, Peter reeled it back quickly turning his attention to the meal. "This is really good, by the way. Secret family recipe?" 

“I dunno, you seemed to have no trouble getting it on by yourself, I’m sure you could get out of it.”  
  
Wade hadn’t even thought about the fact that Peter had not needed any help when he had returned in the suit earlier, having been caught up in other thoughts. Now he was intrigued. He set his head on his entwined fingers and studied Peter while he ate.  
  
“Google: the ultimate recipe book,” he said after a moment. Then Wade sat back up and finished the last bite of his plate before speaking again. “Fuzzy memory, remember? No family recipes for me.” 

"Right... that's..." Peter pushed around a last piece of potato on his plate, unsure what to say to something so sad and so... _personal._  
  
"That's easily fixed. Next time I'm here, I could bring my aunt's recipe for lasagna. Then at least you'd have one family recipe to fall back on. Even if it’s from somebody else's family." 

Wade stood and began to clear the table.  
  
“That would be awesome. Actually, you know, if you text it to me before you visit next, I can make sure to have all the ingredients ready to go.” He sat the plates in the sink. “Why don’t you go get changed and I’ll get you your cash for the evening.” 

The mention of money had caught Peter more than a little off guard. He'd just spent a reasonably nice evening, hanging out with a friend (and Wade was a friend, even if Peter was just realizing it for himself), watching movies and having dinner. Sure he'd let Wade get a little handsier than he normally would have but he still didn’t feel like he’d done anything to earn any sort of compensation. At the same time, he didn't think he could refuse it without making Wade suspicious.  
  
"R-right. I'll do that." He headed back to the bathroom, changing quickly into his own clothes and folding the borrowed suit neatly before setting it by the sink. He stared down at it, tracing the webbed design with one finger, trying to figure out why Wade would want to spend time with the hero when all he'd ever done was be standoffish and cold. At least Peter could make an effort to do better in the future.

Wade watched Peter head off to change before getting back to cleaning up. The skillet was still half-full, but he tried to eat normal sized meals while around non-mutates as not to raise suspicion. Besides, he had better ideas for the leftovers.  
  
He glanced at the dishes in the sink and figured they’d be fine for a few minutes before heading to his room where he kept his wallet. Wade grabbed the cash he needed and had just reached the kitchen when Peter arrived right behind him.

Peter felt oddly exposed and vulnerable in his regular clothes, but he imagined that's exactly how Wade had felt the entire evening.  
  
"You sure there's not anything else I can do for you? Help with the dishes? Or um... a bedtime story?"

“A bedtime story?” Wade couldn’t help the stupid grin from forming on his face. “You’re too cute.” He managed to reign in his usual squealing any time something was too adorable to handle. “How about I take a rain check on that?”  
  
He picked up a plastic container where he’d wrapped up what was left from their dinner and handed it and the money to Peter. “Had a little extra, figured you’d like to take some home.” 

The container was still warm in his hands, and Peter gripped it tightly, thinking briefly about the cold outside he was about to face again. The whole night had passed so quickly, with a few minor missteps and plenty of awkwardness to be sure, but there was something about it that made the entire evening seem almost dreamlike. Part of Peter was reluctant to wake just yet.  
  
"Thanks," he said quietly, frowning down at the frankly ludicrous amount of cash Wade had stacked on top of the leftovers. "I'm going to have to savor this some night soon." He tucked the bills away in his pocket wondering if he was only imagining his hand felt a little grimier after doing so.  
  
He'd make it up to Wade somehow. But right now he knew he didn't have a choice.  
  
"I hope it's not too weird to say but... I had a good time?" He looked up at Wade, and despite the smile he saw on his face, he couldn't help the strange sinking feeling as he prepared to leave. 

“I’m really glad you did. And I appreciate it, a lot. Thank you,” Wade said as he watched Peter slip into his jacket. “I look forward to seeing you again.” 

Peter paused before opening the door, turning back to Wade before walking resolutely towards him and giving him a firm hug. Wade chuckled and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, hugging him back just as firmly. He held onto him for a few moments, soaking in the feelings coursing through him.  
  
With a soft kiss to the top of Peter’s head, he let go and gently pushed Peter toward the door. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep. You don’t need all that extra baggage weighing you down.” He teased, running a thumb under Peter’s tired eyes. “And stay safe out there.” 

After sharing a warm hug, getting a sweet kiss, and being sent out the door with a gentle gibe meant only to make sure he took care of himself, Peter felt more like he was heading home from a date than fulfilling an online ad. _That_ was something that was going to keep him awake at night, despite Wade's insistence that he get some sleep.  
  
"I'll try my best," he assured him, giving him one last smile before heading out the door. "Night, Wade."

Wade watched Peter go and slowly closed the door behind him. He couldn’t believe that he’d manage to find someone willing to spend time with him, even if he was paying the guy. He locked the door, finished cleaning up and headed to bed. He wasn’t sure if he’d get any rest, but he would certainly try.

Outside, the weather had only become more hostile, stinging at Peter’s cheeks until he remembered to pull his hood up, the soft fabric ghosting over the place where Wade's lips had been buried only moments before. The thought sparked a flush of color across his cheeks and he quickly began his journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Vicktick for being our Beta Reader. Do check out their fantastic fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicktick/pseuds/vicktick)
> 
>  
> 
> [The art from Umikochann can be reblogged here!](http://umikochannart.tumblr.com/post/182988856122/finished-commission-for-343enderspark-its)
> 
>  
> 
> Some of you may be wondering what a "Yule Log" is. Well, while this fic definitely counts as a "slow burn" we thought it was sort of an oddball since the characters do kiss etc very early on, while the admission of feelings are far behind. We joked that it sure looks like a fire, but you can't toast a marshmallow over it, like the TV program that people turn on at Christmas to simulate a fireplace. Thus, the tag "Yule Log" was born. Tell your friends. XD
> 
> Art for banner is from Amazing Spider-Man #789 (Pencilers Mark Bagley, Stuart Immonen) and All-New Wolverine #22 (Penciler Leonard Kirk), both are great issues!


	2. The Broken Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets up with Wade for a second appointment, looking forward to a relaxed evening and a decent meal. However, things don’t quite go to plan and the two find themselves in the middle of an unexpectedly hot and steamy encounter.

 

 

 

Deadpool was out and about for no other reason than the need to get out of his apartment and stretch. Alright, so he had one other reason, but at that particular moment, he wasn’t actively searching for NYC’s friendly neighborhood spider. Instead, he was looking over the recipe Peter had sent him earlier, taking note of the ingredients he would need to pick up at some point before they met again in two days.  
  
It’d been three days since they’d met for the first time but the two of them were hitting it off pretty well. Not only did Peter somehow tolerate Wade’s appearance, he also didn’t freak out over his nightmare or his mutant abilities. And the fact that Peter’s build was remarkably similar to that of the person Deadpool _really_ wanted to be close to, well that was a bonus as well. 

Deadpool glanced through their messages again, curious what Peter was up to. 

 _> >Hey, Wade. Just double checking we're still on for Tuesday._ _Read 1:52pm_  
  
>> _Swung by my aunt's house for that recipe. She was overjoyed I was sharing it with someone. She wanted me to make sure to tell you to use fresh oregano OR ELSE._  
_(Believe me, you don't want to tangle with her. Better do what she says.)_ _Read 2:31am_  
  
>> _I collapsed in front of the TV today, just meant to rest up for a second. I was too tired to get up and ended up watching all of Mannequin 2. Please don't judge me._ _Read 4:22pm_  
  
>> _Heated up those leftovers from the other night. Still delicious. Thanks again._ _Read 8:11pm_  
  
Initially, Peter had been nervous about texting Wade, but once he started, he couldn't help but continue. Countless times throughout his day he saw things that made him smile: an overheard song on the radio, a glimpse of something on TV, that made him think of the mercenary. Normally, he would have let the thoughts slip away into the ether, but now he found himself wondering if Wade wouldn't appreciate knowing that someone had thought of him at all.  
  
Deadpool was on his mind now as well, as he swung through the city, enjoying the cool crispness of the air, but still wishing he'd found a reliable way to insulate his suit. He had barely started wondering how much air resistance he'd build up if he donned a parka and wooly scarf when he saw a familiar blur of red in the distance.  
  
"Hey, Deadpool," Peter called out, landing deftly at his side. "How's it going?" 

He wondered vaguely who the the man was texting but figured it had something to do with his away mission coming up in a few days.

 _// hey bb, make sure to get some actual sleep tonight, alright?_  
  
Wade hit send just as a certain someone landed softly next to him. He pocketed his phone and skipped over to Spider-Man, wrapping him in a tight hug and lifting him off the ground.  
  
“Spidey! Haven’t seen you in ages!” He grinned at him through the mask. “It’s been a good couple of days for me, though I’m not looking forward to my mission coming up.”  
  
He set Spider-Man down, slinging an arm around his shoulders, taking in what he could before he was shoved away.  
  
“What about you, Webs? Kick any ass without me?” 

Typically, Deadpool would get a maximum of two seconds contact before Spider-Man pushed him away, but Peter found his heart wasn't in it this time around. He endured (enjoyed) the good natured rough housing for what it was without comment, only gently shifting out of Wade's grasp when he felt like lingering any longer would raise suspicion.  
  
"More minor ass reprimanding than actual kicking," he grinned. "Some petty thefts, attempted carjacking, that sort of thing. And you? Something good happen? Did you actually get a job as a ‘Federal Bikini Inspector’ like it says on that horrible shirt you wore last month?"  
  
“Sigh, no. Didn’t get the dream job.” Wade paused, trying to describe the other night and Peter without making him sound like a prostitute...even though he was only hanging around Wade for the money. He figured it’d be best to avoid that all together. “Just making new, amazing friends. It’s difficult to do that when the mask is off, ya know.” 

Peter looked at Wade, sympathy tugging at his chest. He knew firsthand how difficult it had been to maintain the relationships in his own life from before he ever got his powers, let alone forge new ones. Even when he did feel a connection with another person, his thoughts were immediately overcome by a sort of cost benefit analysis, calculating whether he should risk exposing his identity or the safety of another person for a chance at any sort of relationship. The answer was rarely positive. Maybe that was why he’d found himself enjoying his time with Wade the other night. There had been no risk, no expectation, and even if he was there to provide companionship for Wade, he couldn't deny he benefitted in that department as well.  
  
"Yeah, actually," He turned his head back out towards the city, realizing he'd been near staring at Deadpool and it was probably verging on creepy. "I do. Glad you're out there meeting people; that should be good for you."

Deadpool preened a little under Spidey’s gaze, taking full advantage of the attention he was getting.  
  
“Awe, lookit us, bonding over life outta the mask.” He opted to get into Spider-Man’s space, but kept his hands to himself, instead bringing them up, clasped together under his chin. “What about you, think I could meet the man behind the mask?” 

"Not all of us can be billionaires, legendary soldiers and ex-circus performers." Peter shook his head, wondering for a moment what it was that made people from such different walks of life decide to start up the hero life. Necessity maybe? Tragedy? Or just an overburdening sense of responsibility? "Some of us are just...ordinary. Regular working stiffs, trying to pay the rent, struggling to have some semblance of a personal life."  
  
For that matter, what made someone like Wade decide to become a mercenary? He was of course, by all accounts, insane. But Peter was starting to think that if they'd first met outside their suits (not in the way the mercenary was always talking about, of course), without the weight of reputation or the opinion of the rest of the super community bearing down on them, the two of them might have gotten along alright. At least, Peter would have given his whole risk analysis a second look.  
  
"I promise, Deadpool, you already know the best version of me." 

“Nothing wrong with ordinary people. They can be some of the most interesting people out there. Besides, most “ordinary” types,” Deadpool made air quotes as he spoke, “usually have some dark secret that makes them like ten times cooler than some billionaire.” Deadpool laughed as a thought occurred to him. “I mean, you’re a prime example, if you’re saying _you_ are ordinary.”  
  
He shook his head, turning quickly and taking a spot in front of Spider-Man instead of beside him. He nearly brought his hands to the other man’s mask but instead placed them on Spider-Man’s shoulders. “Spidey, I only know this half of you. These masks make it easy for supers to operate without consequence. Or in my case, keep everyone’s lunch from coming up.” He shook his head again. “Nope. The best thing is knowing all there is to know about a person, good and bad, and still loving them anyways.”  
  
Deadpool’s anxiety kicked in as he realized he was getting into some weird not-quiet-personal zone. Without thinking, he quickly picked up Spider-Man and threw him over his shoulder. (He may or may not have taken the chance to place his hand on Spidey's ass in the process.)

“How about we go get tacos? Mushy feelings are boring.” 

Peter would deny it til the end of time, but he was glad when Wade scooped him up and slung him over his back like a sack of potatoes. While incredibly embarrassing, it kept him from having to meet the mercenary's intense gaze. Even through the added protection of their masks, he felt like his cheeks were burning hot enough to glow. Why was Wade bringing up something like _love_ at a time like this? Did it have something to do with Spider-Man, or these "amazing friends" he was meeting? And did that mean Wade was thinking these same thoughts around...  
  
His thoughts came to a halt, and instead he squawked angrily, kicking his legs and pounding tightly wound fists against Wade's back with little conviction, doing his best not to think about the strength and pleasing warmth of the hands that held him. 

Deadpool laughed at Spidey’s protest, knowing he could very well get out of the hold. He was surprised that he was allowed to carry Spider-Man as far as he did, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Two blocks from Wade's 3rd favorite taco truck in the city, Peter was released. Wade knew he’d been allowed to take up personal space far longer than he usually got. He was curious at the change but afraid to question too much into it, in case it was a privilege that was taken away.  
  
"I might not have eight legs like a proper spider, but I'm still capable of walking on my own." It was impossible for Peter to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Ah, where’s the fun in that?” Wade teased as they rounded the corner for the block they needed to be on.  
  
Within moments, the cook had their orders ready to go; Wade thanked him before grabbing the overstuffed bag of food.

“One steamy dinner date, hot and fresh. And a couple of tacos too.” He winked as he handed over the food. 

"Who said anything about this being a date," Spidey snapped, but there was no venom in the words. "This is essentially a kidnapping." 

Despite Peter’s mild protests, he lost no time in rolling up the bottom edge of his mask, digging into the meal with all the fervor of a young man barely controlling a hyperactive metabolism who had just spent the evening scouring the city for crime. 

Wade was still chuckling at his modest objections, but couldn’t ignore the small bout of butterflies fluttering inside him. He rolled his own masked up as he prepared to eat. 

“If that had been a real kidnapping attempt, I’m pretty sure you’d’ve kicked my ass. Though, that would’ve been hot _a-f_.” 

 _That_ train of thought ended up being a little more distracting than Deadpool had bargained for, and he had to fight off some very inappropriate ideas before he could even take a bite of his own taco. 

Crimson oil, thick with spices ran down Peter’s chin and neck, coming dangerously close to the hem of his suit. Wade’s eyes couldn’t help but follow it. He licked his lips, doing his best to keep his mind out of the gutter before he pulled out a napkin and dabbed at Spidey’s face. 

“You know, taco juice stains very easily, especially the good tacos.” 

Peter paused for a second, surprised at the quiet domesticity of having someone else taking a moment to wipe something from his face, be it a crumb or some stray salsa. Considering the way nights with Deadpool usually went, he supposed he should be glad he hadn’t been splattered with something less pleasant. "Why do I have the sneaking suspicion you've actually tried to juice a taco before. Like a demented Jack LaLanne but with more spandex. Or maybe not, come to think of it." Peter took another bite, humming with satisfaction. 

Deadpool laughed and threw the napkin at Spider-Man’s face. “I get bored, I like to try new things. I may or may not have tried to see what things I could juice. Surprisingly less fun than seeing what things would blend.”

"I'm not sure if I'm surprised or not that you have a head full of household tips. Don't suppose you want to help me with the mountain of laundry I've been putting off?" 

Wade worked on his own taco while Spider-Man questioned him, shaking his head. “I know I’m not exactly right in the head but letting laundry pile up _is_ insane.” He said as he wiped his hands on a new napkin. “If it’s a washer and dryer you need, you’re welcome to use mine,” he told him seriously. “As for stains, once they’re set, not much you can do about it.” 

"You're just saying that because you want to let your Twitter followers know you found out if Spider-Man wears boxers or briefs." Peter grinned, crumpling up the oily napkin and tucking it away with the foil from his meal. "I can see the front page of the Bugle now, plastered with a photo of me hauling my clothes across town in a webbed up bundle. _WEB-HEAD AIRS OUT DIRTY LAUNDRY!"_  
  
“Oh please, I don’t need to peep on your unmentionables. I’m pretty sure you got nothing under that suit of yours.” Wade grinned lasciviously, eyeing the other mutate. 

"It's not that, though. I mean, the coin laundry is just around the corner from my place. It's more about time management, or lack thereof." Spider-Man shrugged, looking down at the empty cardboard boat in front of him. "That bit of personal life I can't quite seem to get the hang of." 

Deadpool shook his head. “You and Peter, I swear. Is it a millennial thing?” He couldn’t help but laugh. He took Spidey’s crumpled wrapper and tossed it along with his own into the trash. “Do I need to get you a life coach? I know a good one, her name’s Emma, real sweetheart.” 

"I'm pretty sure any half decent life coach would immediately tell me my biggest problem is that I spend most of my evenings careening around the city, literally looking for trouble." Peter stretched, forcing his joints to pop, but as he lowered his arms he felt much more at ease, and as relaxed as he had... well since the last time he'd seen Wade.  
  
"So...Peter, is it? This new friend of yours?" He shouldn't have been surprised. He wasn't surprised, not really, to hear his own name from Wade's mouth. And yet, he couldn't deny the gentle fluttering in his stomach. "Another merc you met on the job? Or a client? Or wait, don't tell me- he runs that little food cart in the park. The one that sells the ‘Beef Tornadoes!’" 

Wade froze. He had not meant to bring Peter up now and he wasn’t about to continue. He keeps letting things slip and he really didn’t want to reveal how he and Peter had met, so instead he turned and began to walk away. 

“That, my dear wall crawler, is for me to know, and you to not find out.” He looked over his shoulder. “And the guy with the beef tornadoes is named Astley. He’s a big fan of yours, almost as big a fan as I am.” 

Peter realized that at the very least he didn't have to worry about Deadpool's characteristic lack of tact blowing his pathetic life wide open for the world. But strangely, the thought hadn't even occurred to him until now, with Wade kindly but firmly refusing to speak any more on the matter. Of course, there was no need for Peter to pry anyway.  
  
"Is that a fact?" He caught up with Deadpool in just a few quick strides. "Maybe I should pay him a visit some night. Convince him to name something on the menu after me. I'm thinking Wall-Crawlin' Waffle Fries... or Spicy Spidey Sliders."  
  
“I think I like the sound of Spicy Spidey Sliders, good alliteration, though I’m not sure how well that would go over with the general public. Bound to be some soccer mom or tourist who thinks there are actual spiders in the tiny burgers,” Wade mused. 

Peter gave Wade a small pat on the shoulder, chuckling at the thought before turning slightly away. "It's been fun, but I gotta call it a night. Need to head back to my place and tackle Mount Wash-n-Wear." 

Deadpool came to an abrupt stop at the contact. “Well, offer still stands if you need it!” He gave a quick salute to him. “I’ll see you when I get back in town, whenever that happens to be. Try not to miss me too much.” 

Peter resisted the urge to ask Wade when he thought his newest mission might be over. With a simple nod of the head, he shot a web up towards an obliging building and swung away into the night. 

Deadpool couldn’t help himself as he tapped his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss, giggling like a schoolgirl as he watched Spider-Man disappear. 

* * *

Tuesday night came, and not a moment too soon. Wade's leftovers were but a delicious memory and Peter found himself craving the taste of his aunt's recipe- to say nothing of spending a little down time making the lasagna with Wade. He'd packed up a change of clothes as well as his computer, textbooks, and a few other items before heading to Wade's apartment. 

A lazy salute to the security guard and an elevator trip later, he was back at the man's door, his senses buzzing pleasantly as he knocked. 

Inside, Wade found himself aimlessly making circles in his kitchen, making sure he had everything on Peter’s list for the third time. He knew there was no need to be nervous, but he just couldn’t help himself. 

When the knock came, he bounced towards the door, taking a deep calming breath before opening it.

“Hey, baby boy.” 

He reached out and tugged lightly on Peter, pulling him into a hug. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t been looking forward to something as simple as a hug. Immediately, Peter was picked up and pulled into the apartment, as the door closed behind them. A moment later they were both back on their feet and Wade loosened his hug, leaning back to look at Peter but not yet releasing him. 

“Did you actually sleep last night or was the text this morning a lie?” He teased, lifting an eyebrow ridge. 

"Uh-" Peter glanced aside, looking more than a little guilty. "I slept. Definitely... probably... I mean... y'know... _technically..._ " He shuffled his feet a little, as a slow smile crossed his face. "Enough. But I can't say I'm not looking forward to getting a few solid hours in tonight."  
  
Presumably with Wade. It had been a long time since Peter had shared a bed with anyone, either because he didn't trust them or because he never got close enough to anyone for it to come up. However, that wasn’t a concern now, while the idea of getting some shut-eye, wrapped in the comfort of the arms holding him now _did_ hold its appeal. 

Wade took Peter’s face in his hands and squeezed just a little. “I will be making sure you sleep tonight.” He glared playfully, before letting his face go and sliding a hand down to take one of Peter’s and lead him to the living room.  
  
"No rush. I still have some schoolwork to take care of, and we have that lasagna to tackle. Speaking of which..." He shuffled his bag from his shoulder, reaching in and pulling out the same plastic container Wade had given him the last time he was here. 

Wade stopped them at the edge of the living room and watched curiously as Peter dug around in his bag, more than a little excited to see what he had. 

"I'm not much of a cook, but I made these." Peter handed the box over, and through its side, several irregularly shaped and just shy of burnt cookies could be seen. “They're probably not too terrible? I thought we could have them after dinner. If you like sweet stuff, that is." 

Wade popped open the lid and snagged a cookie. “I mean, I’ve had worse.” He tapped the cookie; it was pretty solid. “Let’s see if it’s worth a cracked tooth.”  
  
Biting into the treat, it gave without damage. He contemplated the taste for a moment, taking it in. Gasping suddenly before collapsing on the ground, he went still for a moment at a failed attempt of some morbid humor.  
  
“It’s really fucking good for a near burnt cookie.” He said after the moment, grinning wide at Peter. “How about making cookies be our next time’s big food fun? Bring the recipe you used and let’s not burn them. Oh, and you can sit your stuff on the table, next to the suit. You can put it on after we cook. Getting lasagna on it will be a pain to clean up otherwise.” 

Peter had almost missed the Spider-Man costume, sitting clean and folded on the coffee table. He forced a half smile to flicker across his lips, but there was a sting of disappointment buried deep inside him. He'd thought... well he'd _hoped_ that after they'd gotten along so well the last time, Wade might not want him to wear the suit at all- that he'd be content to spend time with just Peter, no masks, no pretending. But then again, it was silly to imagine anyone would prefer to hang out with Peter Parker over Spider-Man. Certainly not if they were paying for the pleasure.

After a moment of silence from Peter, Wade frowned. “Come here you.” He said as he reached up and pulled Peter down to the floor with him. 

Peter’s spiral of self pity was interrupted when he was abruptly drawn to the floor, and he let his head fall on Wade's shoulder, taking a deep breath to clear his head. Wade didn't need to know about his crippling inferiority complex towards... himself. He'd probably just recommend talking to "Emma" anyway.  
  
No, he had to focus now. He was here with one task in mind, one that didn't involve being a total bummer of a human being.  
  
"Recipe... right. I definitely didn't buy the refrigerated stuff," he nodded. "Made it from scratch. Milled the flour. Churned the butter. Toasted the uh... nuts." 

Wade shifted, rolling on his side and looking at Peter. He brought his hand up and booped Peter’s nose with his finger. “You’re a riot, Peter. We’ll still make cookies, but we can try out different recipes. Figure out what our favorite is.” 

His finger traced the side of Peter’s face as he took a moment to just look at him. How did he get so lucky? There was actually a second person in the universe that could tolerate him. He wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. From the angle he was at, he could only reach down to kiss Peter on the forehead even though he wanted to kiss him fully again, but he reminded himself he had all night. 

Peter's eyes fluttered closed and he allowed himself to enjoy the tender gesture for what it was, not thinking about Peter Parker or Spider-Man, not letting anyone into his thoughts at all, except Wade. He breathed in deeply, taking in the barely noticeable scent of the man's soap. He must have bathed not long ago, but even so there was the faintest hint of sweat clinging to him as well. It wasn't unpleasant so much as it was surprising in its newfound familiarity.  
  
He raised a hand, letting it run down the length of Wade's arm, his fingers exploring the bumps and divots of his skin. As his eyes opened, he studied the strange texture, humming thoughtfully to himself. 

Wade shivered under Peter’s touch, watching as he studied him. He found he didn’t mind, where with almost anyone else, he probably would have stabbed them.

"Is it... sensitive?" Peter asked quietly. "All the scar tissue, has it altered your nerve endings? Or made your senses more acute? I was wondering if..." He looked up suddenly, shock at his own words clear on his face.

Wade smiled softly and chuckled as Peter looked up, his expression not quite horror filled. 

"S-sorry. I don't know what came over me. Scientist habit, maybe but..." Peter shook his head. "Doesn’t make it okay for me to ask."

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind if it’s you.” He brought his hand back up near Peter’s face. “You remember my healing factor? Well, my scars are always shifting and changing. Sensations are really never the same twice. Sometimes I can feel things where the scars are, and other times I can’t. I’m used to it for the most part, though having someone else’s hands on them, it’s a little odd if I’m honest.” His voice fell soft as he talked about his skin. It wasn’t a subject he broached often, if ever. 

A soft shiver of excitement trilled down Peter's spine at the trust he was being given. Just by eschewing his mask, Wade was already making himself vulnerable, but Peter knew he also didn't like talking about his condition if he could help it, typically choosing to sidestep any conversation that got too "real" with a bout of crass humor and misdirection.  
  
Peter let his hand trail up and down Wade's arms a few times, finally sliding it up and over his shoulder to rest on the broad planes of his chest, easily feeling the beating of his heart through the thin fabric of his shirt. Turning his head slightly, he allowed his lips to just graze the palm of Wade's hand, enjoying the uneven texture of the skin there as he spoke again.  
  
"You'll tell me though, won't you? If you need me to be more gentle? If... if it hurts?" 

Wade bit his lower lip as he soaked in the sensation of Peter’s touch, pleasant against his skin. His fingers twitched as he fought to automatically pull his hand away from Peter’s lips, but he held them steady, self control coming easily to the trained mercenary. Another shiver ran through him as Peter spoke, his breath gentle across the palm of his hand.    
  
He hummed an agreement before he smirked. “What if I like a little pain?” 

"Isn't there enough of that out there?" Peter bucked his head lightly towards the window where softened streetlight warmed the glass. "I don't really like thinking that I might hurt you," he added softly. He wondered if it was inevitable- if some day Wade would find out he'd been bearing his most vulnerable insecurities to one of the very heroes he admired. "I... I like getting to be the person that's... nice to you." 

“Aw, you can’t hurt me, baby boy. I’m sure whatever you’re thinking, it’s been done to me before and I survived just fine.” Wade ran his hand through Peter’s hair as he spoke. “Thank you for being nice though. I don’t deserve it, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”  
  
"In that case," Peter took a deep breath, straightening out his back even as they lay on the floor, "if you insist on pain..." He reached behind Wade, scrabbling at the ground until he found what he was looking for, grabbing his prize before pressing it against Wade's open and puzzled lips.  
  
"We do still have these cookies," he smiled.  
  
“The hell?” Wade sputtered, reeling back from a faceful of plastic. “Why you little...” he laughed and grabbed the box out of his face. “Keep that up and I won’t make dinner for you tonight. Speaking of…”  
  
He sat up, pulling Peter with him. “We should get started, lasagna takes a while to make.” 

"Foooood," Peter moaned, hopping up to his feet and following Wade's lead into the kitchen. "I can practically taste it already." He found a perch on the counter, looking down at all the vegetables and herbs Wade had purchased. There seemed to be much more than the recipe required, and a few other items that he guessed Wade had thrown in his cart because it seemed like a good idea at the time. 

“Think you can last another hour or so? We haven’t even started yet.” Wade laughed, poking Peter in the belly after he hopped onto the counter. “You won’t starve, I promise.”  
  
"I've helped May make this a few times before, so I have an idea of what I'm doing. Feel free to use me however you see fit."  
  
Wade began chopping the onion after he set the dutch oven to warm. He had to catch himself from cutting off a finger when Peter spoke.  
  
“I mean I know it’s why you’re here, but do you gotta say it so suggestively?” Wade teased. He set the knife down for a moment and moved to stand between Peter’s knees, running his hands over his thighs lightly. “You got two choices, you can either sit in a chair and do your homework or, if you want to help, work on making the ricotta mix.” 

Pouting just a little bit, Peter looked back at his bag waiting for him in the living room. Right now the idea of sitting down to study was even less appealing than usual, whereas taking the opportunity to spend more time goofing off with Wade was an increasingly attractive option. Especially when he was standing close like this, applying the most gentle pressure over the fabric of his jeans- as though the man was trying to ask for more without seeming insistent.  
  
"It will be done sooner if I help, won't it?" Peter suggested. "Homework will be waiting once we're both fed, and I'll be able to focus more on a full stomach, besides." He hopped down from his perch, shifting his legs to avoid stepping on Wade's feet, though it did nothing to keep him from pressing up against the pleasing warmth of his chest. "Time to get cheesy," he grinned. 

“As long as you get what you need done before classes tomorrow; no procrastinating,” Wade scolded gently, a small smile on his face.  
  
He reached up and ruffled Peter’s hair before returning to the cutting board. Soon the onions were in the pot, softening as their edges turned a gentle golden brown. A few moments later and they were joined by a healthy heap of garlic and a delectable aroma began to permeate the air.  
  
“Is this your favorite dish your aunt makes?” 

"It's definitely up there," Peter nodded, opening up the container of soft cheese and dumping it out into the mixing bowl Wade had provided. "It was a staple in our house, especially when the weather started to get colder. And when I started growing, with an appetite to match, I was always happy to see something hearty and filling on the table.  
  
"But my actual favorite were the wheatcakes she'd make on the weekend. Maybe it's more of a sentimental thing than anything? She'd serve them up in big stacks on those days we had more time to linger at the table." His hands stilled a little, hovering over the lip of the bowl after he tipped in a spoonful of herbs. "My uncle would drink his coffee and spread out the paper all over the table. He'd read out the headlines to us, sometimes sneaking in a ridiculous made-up story to keep us on our toes.  
  
"I'd always pile on way too much butter and syrup while I sat and listened to their chatter. It wasn't ever about much of anything but it was... nice? You know? Just the two of them enjoying a quiet morning together." He smiled and started stirring again. "The kind of relationship I kind of hoped I'd find some day.  
  
"There's still a part of me that enjoys digging into a stack of them. Not that I'm over at her place many mornings." The bowl was still now, its contents slowly settling and slipping down the sides. "I guess it helps me remember the good times, back when things were... less complicated." 

Wade listened to Peter, enjoying his serene expression as he talked about his family. He made a note to figure out how to make wheatcakes for them to eat later on. For now he needed to focus on adding the beef and pork to the pot, making sure they both browned evenly without burning.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll find that someone special one day. Don’t give up!” Wade said at he popped over and stood behind Peter. He slipped an arm around his waist and kissed the top of head. “Life likes to get more and more complicated each day; you just gotta remember the positives. Like right now, I’ll certainly remember this day fondly, getting to make lasagna with my baby boy.” 

Peter didn't know how Wade did it, bounced back and forth so easily from one context to another. Sometimes he was a force of nature, a nuclear powered pop culture reference vending machine. And then there were moments like these, when he felt Wade's hand on him, his arm pulling him closer, breath tickling the hairs on his neck- moments where he almost forgot that none of this was meant to be anything more than a transaction. He was here providing a service, nothing more special than a cleaning lady or an electrician. It wasn't a real relationship.  
  
No... that wasn't quite right. It might not be a _romantic_ relationship. The two of them might not be boyfriends or even dating, but that didn't mean it wasn't a real... something, that whatever there was between them was less than genuine.  
  
Well, aside from the fact that Wade didn't know Peter was Spider-Man but _most_ people didn't, and if Peter started thinking down that rabbit hole he knew he'd never get out.  
  
The point was, he was able to be himself when he was here with Wade, in this soft microcosm that held only the two of them. And he was pretty sure it was the same for Wade as well.  
  
He leaned back into Wade's chest, trying to focus on nothing beyond the feeling of close contact, settling into the comforting bubble of warmth.  
  
"It's nice isn't it... making new memories? Knowing in that moment you've got something special to come back to." He covered Wade's arms with his own. "I'm glad I get to be here with you now." 

Something uncertain twisted inside Wade and he stilled for a moment. He frowned and did his best to shove the emotion aside. He’d worry about it later, when he wasn’t in the middle of being adorably domestic with Peter.  
  
“It will definitely help my trip go by faster, knowing I have something to look forward to back here.” Wade slipped away from Peter for a moment, stepping aside to stir the pot. “I’m not even quite sure what all I’ll have to deal with once I get overseas. I don’t like going in blind.” 

"You don't know anything about the job?" Peter didn't even have to feign confusion like he had when Wade had told him about his healing factor. The mercenary's discomfort was clear in the tense hold of his jaw and the way he avoided looking at Peter entirely.  
  
"Are you sure you'll be..." ‘Safe’ wasn't quite the right word. "Okay?" 

Wade shrugged, “I have a general idea, but I’ll be more informed once I meet up with the local guys.”  
  
Wade added the spices, followed by the tomato paste. “You don’t have to worry, Petey-Pie. I’ll be fine.” He smiled over at Peter. “Now, you done with the ricotta? ‘Cause it’s time for the tomato crushing fun.” 

Peter forced an accepting smile on his face, but he couldn't help but worry. He knew that Wade was never down for long, that it was literally impossible for him to die, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel pain or wasn't affected by what he had to see or do while on a mission.  
  
But if Wade wanted him to forget it for now, he didn't want to argue. Instead, he knew their time would be better spent making and enjoying their dinner. Maybe it would give the both of them some much needed peace of mind.  
  
"All done here," he gave a sloppy salute. "I'm all ready to crush."' 

Wade laughed and motioned him over, offering him one of the tomatoes in his hand. “Just try to get the tomato in the pot and not everywhere else!” He laughed as he squeezed his own. He managed to keep the juices from flying everywhere. Dropping it in the pot once he was finished, Wade picked up two more, holding one out to the other man. 

Peter had made this recipe enough times with his aunt to know that the tomato crushing portion of the recipe actually involved putting the vegetables into a pot and pulverizing them with a large spoon or potato masher. That being said, Wade's method certainly promised to be a lot more entertaining.  
  
It was a little bit like a carnival game, trying to apply the exact right amount of pressure to crush the tomato without absolutely destroying it and sending its juices flying around the kitchen at high speed. He even feigned a little difficulty at first, before finally tightening his fingers around it, dropping the rest into the pot.  
  
In about a minute, the pot was about half way full and the counter was splattered with seeds and juices, to say nothing of the rivulets that had made their way down Peter and Wade's arms.  
  
"That looks like enough, doesn't it?" 

“Yeah, I think we’re good.” Wade said as he mixed everything together and turned down the heat, covering it all with a lid.  
  
He grabbed a dish towel and began to wipe his arms off. “Welp, we now have about forty five minutes to kill while the sauce cooks.” Lifting one of Peter’s arms, he started swiping at the tomato juices. “Got any assignments you can knock out while we wait?” Wade took his other arm and finished cleaning Peter, but instead of dropping the arm, he took his hand, entwining their fingers and bringing the back of Peter’s hand to his lips. “Smells tomato-y.” He grinned before placing a soft kiss. 

"I do suppose I have a few chapters of reading I need to _ketchup_ on." Peter rolled his eyes at his own corny joke, but he couldn't fight the smile growing on his face at Wade's strange brand of flirtatious behavior.  
  
Reluctantly, he untangled his hand from the other man's grip, heading to the living room to liberate his textbook, finally taking a seat, cross legged on Wade's sofa. 

Wade let Peter’s hand slip from his own. “You’re _im-pasta-ble,_ you know that right? I greatly approve.” 

Wade followed, but stopped short as Peter dug through his bag. The suit sat glaring next to his backpack. That same twisted feeling from earlier cut through him. He was head over heels stupid for Spidey, but if Wade was being honest with himself, at this moment he didn’t want to think about the hero. He wanted to be in the here and now, not some delusional ‘what if’ place. 

"Will you sit with me?" Peter patted the spot on the cushion next to him.  
  
Peter’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and Wade smiled, hopping over the back of the couch, bouncing into place. He kicked his feet up on the table, _maybe accidentally_ knocking the suit off to the other side, out of sight.  
  
“What’s on the reading list tonight?” 

"Genetic predisposition," Peter announced, without a hint of enthusiasm. He settled himself again after Wade stopped bouncing around on the cushions, holding his book tight, lest it go flying out of his hands.

Wade was tempted to wind himself around Peter while he read but he knew he’d have to get up occasionally to stir the pot. Instead he settled for winding his arm around his shoulders. 

"Um, basically... we now know that things like alcohol or drug addiction can have a genetic component. Some people's genetics are just ‘wired’ in a way that makes them more susceptible." Peter opened up his book, flipping through several chapters before finding his page, marked by a hot chocolate receipt from the cafe near his apartment; an indulgence he wouldn't have been able to afford this month if not for the extra cash.  
  
"There's some questions now as to whether or not a similar predilection might exist for the expression of the X-Gene. Or even something that might make a person more likely to mutate later on in life. And of course the ethical question of whether it’s even a good idea to try and map those genetic markers."  
  
"It's uh," he gave a nervous laugh, glancing up at Wade, "kind of a lot."

  
“Oh, okay I get that. Wonder what I got from my bloodline?” He glanced at the textbook once Peter reached his page. Wade wasn’t dumb but looking over just a few of the paragraphs dense with jargon was exhausting.  
  
“You able to read while other noise goes on around you?” He asked, picking up the remote control. “I’m not gonna be much help other than offering the cuddles.”

"I don't think there's anything you could put on that would come close to the noise I'm used to hearing in the student union." Peter waved one hand loosely towards the set. "I think I've actually grown to prefer having a little background noise. It makes me feel like I'm actually hanging out with people instead of locked away in a vacuum."  
  
As he found the place where he'd left off, Peter made himself comfortable against Wade's side, letting his head fall against his shoulder while he read. True to his word, he was soon tuning out all sound, lost in his reading, tiny wrinkle forming on his brow as his lips closed and parted with words half spoken. 

Wade scrolled through the channels, failing to find much of anything he wanted to watch. He finally left it on a random channel and opted to pay attention to Peter instead. The young man was tucked snuggly into his side and Wade realized he might have to deal with a slightly overcooked sauce to keep him there. Honestly though, it didn’t seem worth it to move. A smile crept on his face as he watched Peter half mouth words silently. He wondered if he even realized he was doing it.  
  
Eventually, he dozed off, his cheek smushed into Peter’s hair. Wade found it surprisingly easy to sleep next to him, though he didn’t understand why. Something about Peter just exuded comfort.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the kitchen timer went off. Forty five minutes certainly passed fast when you were asleep. Once he caught up to reality, Wade chuckled and slowly unwrapped himself from around Peter.  
  
“Might have burnt the sauce.” He said as he fought off a yawn and made his way into the kitchen, taking the pot off the heat. He opened it and stirred the contents, realizing they’d lucked out and the sauce wasn’t too badly far gone. 

It was impossible to stifle the soft snickering from escaping his lips, but the smile that accompanied it made it clear Peter found the whole situation more endearing than truly karmic.  
  
"Maybe next time you'll be nicer about my cookies," he chided, stepping a little closer to inspect the damage.

“Ouch,” Wade grasped at his chest. “Shots fired and returned, baby boy.”

"I think it will be fine," Peter assured him with a hand on his shoulder. "If it was perfect, it wouldn't really taste homemade, would it?" 

Wade wrapped his unoccupied arm around Peter’s waist and pulled him into his side. “You sure your bad luck with cooking isn’t rubbing off on me?”

Peter almost had to give Wade a trophy for not continuing his inevitable train of thought after uttering the words ‘rubbing off’ within earshot of another person. In fact, he was pretty sure if they had been on patrol, Wade would not only have made the obvious joke, but several accompanying hand gestures to boot. Wade must have been trying to keep on his best behavior in Peter's presence. Which was fine. Really.

The older man released Peter a moment later so he could gather all the items to build the lasagna. “You wanna place the noodles and cheese or be on sauce duty?”

"Oh no," he shook his head. "You're just trying to share the blame for any sauce imperfections. I'll take the noodles and cheese, please." He took up the box of ready to bake noodles, peeling open the cardboard packaging with ease before shaking several pieces out into his hand. "Let's get to it. The sooner it's in the oven, the sooner we can eat!" 

Wade laughed. “Fine, fine, I’ll handle the sauce.”  
  
He set the oven to preheat while they began to assemble the dish. They managed to settle into a groove very quickly: noodles, sauce, cheese, repeat.  
  
Once they finished, Wade eyed the leftover sauce in the pan. He glanced up at Peter and caught his attention, grinning wickedly. He took the spoon in hand and flicked it. 

Peter had no sooner opened his mouth to warn Wade about being childish when he ended up with a face full of leftover sauce, splatters thickly coating his cheeks and even trailing into his mouth. He yelped, pawing at his face with one hand while seeking out the bowl of ricotta with the other. Without wasting time to even look for a spoon, he dipped two fingers into the remnants of the cheese and leapt towards Wade, eager to return the attack with one of his own.  
  
"You are so dead," he growled playfully, looking for an opening to smear some of the substance on Wade's cheek. 

Wade brought his arm up to try and block him as he attacked with the ricotta. Unfortunately, Peter proved surprisingly spry and he was unsuccessful. Laughing, he scooped up more sauce, this time with his hand, and buried it in his hair.  
  
Peter froze, mouth gaping, as globs of sauce slowly worked their way down his scalp, dropping from his hair like fat and graceless drops of rain. He stared at Wade, blinking twice in disbelief, and it was difficult to see if he was genuinely outraged, or simply planning his next move.  
  
“You look absolutely lovely in red.” Wade teased, trying to sidestep him.

In an instant Peter grabbed the entire bowl, springing up with surprising speed, and turning the entire thing over onto Wade's head. While there wasn't enough filling left inside to make much of a mess, the look of the hulking man with a brightly colored bowl resting on his head like an oversized helmet was worth it.  
  
"Be sure to let the filling set for at least ten minutes," he quipped, holding the bowl firmly in place with both hands. 

Wade was caught off guard with Peter’s speed but he didn’t have long to process it before cheese was dribbling out over his ears. Between the quip and the triumphant smile on Peter’s face, Wade felt a sudden urge arise. He grabbed the smaller man around the waist as he rushed forward and pinned him against the fridge.  
  
“You’re beginning to look pretty delectable.” He reached up and swiped a glob of the ricotta off his own cheek and added it to Peter’s nose with a smirk. “And now I have a hot meal to eat.”  
  
He leaned forward and captured Peter’s lips. One hand worked its way to Peter’s neck and threaded into his sauce soaked hair. 

It wasn't exactly _comfortable_ for Peter _,_ having the cold metal of the fridge against his back while still-warm droplets of tomato sauce worked their way down his skin and found their way into the knitted border at the neck of his sweater. And yet, all of that was no competition at all when compared to the sensation of Wade's lips against his own, teeth grazing at the sensitive skin, pulling at Peter ever so slightly.  
  
A soft murmur escaped him as his hands sought out Wade's shoulders, the bowl clattering forgotten on the floor.  
  
It wasn't anything like the kisses Peter had shared in the past. Not because of the texture of Wade's skin or the low growling he could just about hear beyond the pounding of blood in his ears. He might have compared it to the feverish moments of intimacy he had shared with Felicia, and even then it wasn't the same at all. Black Cat was always curious to see what she could take from Peter, while Wade...  
  
Well, right now Wade seemed eager to give him everything he thought he could handle.  
  
"Wade-" Peter fought to get the words out between gasps of breath. "Mess... Dinner..."

Wade really didn’t want to stop just yet; he was too intoxicated by Peter, but he slowed, kissing the side of his mouth as he spoke. Once his words fully registered, Wade let his head drop on to Peter’s shoulder.  
  
“Alright, just...give me a sec.”  
  
He hadn’t realized just how worked up he had gotten. Wade’s heart rate had shot up to something approaching fighting levels in no time, and the less he focused on how certain other parts of his body were reacting right now, the better.  
  
Once he had himself under control, he stood up straight again. “Sorry, sorry. Got a little carried away there.” He wiped at Peter’s face and hair, trying to clear any large chunks of tomato.  
  
“How about you go shower and I’ll clean up here?” He glanced around the kitchen and groaned. “How the hell did it end up on the ceiling?”  
  
He shifted back to give Peter space, but managed to slip on some of the ricotta on the floor. 

Peter _could_ have grabbed onto Wade and kept him from slipping. It wouldn't have looked at all out of the ordinary with the fridge bracing his back. But his instincts instead led him to maintain the barest of holds on Wade's shoulders as he fell back onto the floor, toppling down over the man, just barely holding himself up over Wade's chest.  
  
"Maybe it's okay," he smiled, "getting a little out of control once in a while." 

Wade brought his hands up to Peter’s face, as he contemplated kissing him again, but he knew they’d never get to dinner at this rate if he did.  
  
“Petey, baby boy, as much as I am enjoying having you right here on top of me, you really should go before I lose what little control I have at the moment.” He smiled and bit his lip, resisting what he wanted for the time being. He had plenty of time to savor Peter later. 

Peter leaned down to give Wade one last, brief kiss on the cheek before reluctantly pulling himself up from the floor. "Something tells me that if _you're_ making a case for self control, I should probably listen." He smiled at Wade before reaching down to help him up.  
  
"I'll go take that shower then. Just change into my nightclothes." His eyes flickered back to the living room. "Uh, that is... unless you'd rather I..." 

Wade hesitated. Part of him wanted to return to that fantasy. He glanced between the living room and Peter, torn.  
  
“Don’t worry about it tonight.” Wade still felt uneasy about his choice, but that odd feeling he’d had all evening was resurfacing and made it easier to choose.  
  
“Now off you go,” He made a shooing gesture with his hands. “I’ll get the lasagna in the oven and clean up here. You take as long as you need.” 

Without a word, Peter nodded, quickly grabbed his clothes from his bag and headed towards the bathroom down the hall. He cast a cursory glance back at Wade, followed by one towards the coffee table where the suit had been waiting. As he lifted up his sweater in the comfort of Wade's bathroom, he tried to puzzle out just why Wade had turned down his offer to don the familiar red and blue again, when he'd clearly been planning on exactly that.  
  
After turning on the faucet, he took a moment to study his reflection before steam filled the room and fog covered the glass. Brown eyes stared back at him just above his cheeks, still flushed from the excitement of moments before. His hair, never tidy, was even more of a mess now that it had suffered a bombardment of Aunt May's chunky tomato sauce. All in all, not exactly a face to be featured on the cover of GQ, or even the front page of the Bugle for that matter.  
  
He stepped into the water, relishing the way its heat worked out the lingering ache in his muscles. It was a luxury he wasn't able to enjoy in his own apartment, so he could hardly be blamed for taking the chance now.  
  
Once he was freshly cleaned and free of all traces of any family recipes, Peter dried himself and began to dress, quickly pulling on a fresh pair of boxers and fleece pants before tugging a battered college t-shirt over his head.  
  
"You asked before if you could sleep in your own things..." he mumbled to himself as the steamy haze started to creep away towards the mirror's edge. "He probably doesn't want to get the suit dirty for the sake of an hour or two. It's got to be a bother to clean. It’s common sense… that’s all."  
  
He nodded to his reflection, sure he'd arrived at the right conclusion, before finally stepping back out into the hall. 

* * *

Meanwhile, Wade had busied himself with dinner, putting the lasagna in the oven before turning his attention to the kitchen, taking in the mess. The ceiling would have to be dealt with later. Instead Wade gathered the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.  
  
As he set to wiping and mopping up, his mind began to wander. Had tonight been the second or third time he’d decided to push aside his feelings for Spidey and focus on Peter? The whole point of their relationship was to have Peter pretend to be Spider-Man. But somehow Peter had already worked his way into Wade’s interest.  
  
“It’s just your brain latching on to the first person that has shown you any compassion.” He tried to argue with himself. “And isn’t that all it is with Spidey? You barely know the guy.”  
  
Wade knew he was too far in his head when he started arguing out loud with himself.  
  
“But I barely know most people.” He said, wringing out the mop as he finished with it. “Maybe I’d know more people if I could do something about this ugly mug of mine.” He hissed quietly at himself as his thoughts spiraled.  
  
"Smells good," Peter’s voice rang through the air, drawing Wade out of the haze he had fallen into. He glanced over at him, greeted by the sight of the young man, clean and comfortable in his nightwear.

  
“Hey, baby boy, have a good shower?” He asked as he grabbed the timer and handed it to Peter. “Lasagna will probably be done before I’m done with mine.” He grabbed Peter’s head and gently pulled it close enough to plant a kiss on his temple. “You should probably finish reading that chapter while you wait. Did you toss your clothes in the washer? I’m gonna run a load.” 

"Oh, no..." Peter mumbled. The washer/dryer in the bathroom had caught his eye, but he hadn’t been about to assume he could use it. "I just sort of crumpled them up." He held up the untidy bundle. "Thought I'd shove them in my bag or something. But if it's okay?" It probably wouldn't be a good idea to carry around sauced up, cheese scented clothing during the course of his school day.  
  
He handed the clothes to Wade with an embarrassed grin in way of thanks before going to retrieve his book from the living room. 

Wade grabbed the clothes from Peter. “We don’t need stains setting in.” 

Chuckling lightly, he headed to the bathroom. He tossed the clothes in the washer, followed by his own as he shed them piece by piece. As the warm water hit his skin, Wade worked on focusing on cleaning himself and centering himself. Avoiding a spiral into the dark depths of his mind was his main goal, especially since he had been doing so well lately.

Once Peter heard the telltale sound of water running, he quietly crept back towards the kitchen. He waited a few moments longer before grabbing some paper towels, as well as the cleaner Wade had been using on the counters and floor.  
  
With a single hop, he was up on the ceiling, making short work of the splatters of sauce that had managed to cling there. When he was done, he dropped gracefully back onto the kitchen tile, tossing away the trash with a soft and secret smile before settling back in to finish his reading for the night.  
  
Suddenly Wade’s voice echoed down the hall. “I hope that’s not the lasagna I smell burning!” He was only partially teasing because he also suspected Peter might tune out the timer while he studied.  
  
He chuckled as he headed to his room, throwing on a fresh tank top and sweatpants. He joined Peter in the kitchen. “Time to eat?” 

"I'll have you know there is a significant portion of the population that _likes_ the burnt edges of a lasagna. So it stands to reason having a burnt middle could only be more delicious." Peter crossed his arms, pretending to scoff at Wade. 

Wade poked Peter in the forehead as he passed him heading to the cabinet for plates. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s how that works. I’ll stick with unburnt middle at least anyways.”  
  
As it turned out, the lasagna wasn't burnt, and Peter could hardly keep his mouth from watering as the scent of bubbling sauce and melted cheese reached his nose.  
  
"This is going to be so good..." He was already grabbing glasses from Wade's cabinet, proud of himself when he found the right spot on his second guess. "I'd say we should let it cool but honestly, I think burning my mouth will be totally worth it."  
  
Wade began plating up the food, while Peter got the drinks. “Well, I’m hungry and not in the habit of waiting. Let’s eat in the living room, we can watch a movie. Any suggestions?”

"Do you have anything by Pixar?" Peter piped up, carrying both drinks back to the living room. "There's just something about the way they make food look in those movies, it always makes me hungry but I never have anything to snack on. But this time, we've got a feast." 

“Please, Studio Ghibli food looks way better!” Wade disagreed as he handed Peter the plate of food. “But if you want to watch a Pixar food movie, we are so watching Ratatouille.”

Peter wasted no time grabbing his plate with both hands, balancing it carefully as he crossed his legs. Wade sat on the couch next to Peter but sat his plate down on the coffee table as he grabbed his remote and searched around to find the streaming service that had the movie in question. Once he found it, he picked up his plate and settled back.  
  
The first bite was definitely too hot; Wade hadn’t waited before plating up the bubbling mass of noodles and sauce. It scorched Peter's tongue just slightly, but it was absolutely satisfying.  
  
"Omigod..." he moaned. "This is amazing..."  
  
“Damn, baby boy, are you eating the lasagna or sleeping with it?” Wade asked, chuckling at the indecent sound. He held his plate on his lap, letting it cool a little longer, while he watched Peter eat, too amused to look away. 

"Hnnsstly?" Peter managed through another mouthful before swallowing. "If you made me a bed as warm and soft as this, I would sleep in it for a hundred years and even then, Prince Charming would have his work cut out for him waking me up." 

“Well then, looks like I have a challenge for tonight.” Wade grinned, snickering slightly. “I know I got the warm part down, though I’m anything but soft.”  
  
Wade lifted a brow, watching Peter scarf down the food. “You do eat when you’re not here right? Looks like I shoulda loaded the plate with half the lasagna.” He teased.  
  
While he wasn't a slob by any means, Peter had developed the unfortunate habit of eating quickly and had to remind himself to slow down before he ended up licking his plate clean.  
  
"Don't you want to try it?” He asked. “I have to know if you like it. May demanded that I report back to her."

  
Wade looked at his untouched plate and shrugged. “One, I don’t like to burn my mouth when I can help it and two, I’m not a starving college student. No need to worry, I’ll dig in soon.”  
  
‘Soon’ was only a minute later, when the steam had finally subsided from the food. He picked up his plate and dug in, humming appreciatively. It was definitely not as sensual as the contented whine Peter had given, but then he tended to live on homemade food unless he was out on a job.  
  
“You can tell May that it’s the best lasagna I’ve had since my last trip to Italy.” 

A  bright smile lit up Peter's features as he happily dug in to what was left on his plate. "She'll be glad to hear that. Not just because her recipe has another fan, of course. She knows it's solid."  
  
He stabbed at a noodle, studying the way the light of the television flickered gently off of it’s slippery surface.  
  
"I think she'll mostly be glad that I found someone to share it with, to say nothing of taking the time to make and enjoy a proper meal. Not... not that I don't eat!" He added, not wanting Wade to worry. "I mean, I just have one of those crazy metabolisms, black hole for a stomach, that kind of thing. But eh... between my schedule and being perpetually broke I'm eating instant noodles and value menu fast food more often than ideal." 

Wade looked at Peter and shook his head. “I understand having a high metabolism. Mine’s pretty overactive since I’m constantly healing myself. Do I need to start sending you home with a week’s worth of food at a time?”  
  
Wade finished his helping and set his plate aside, leaning fully into the couch to finish the movie with Peter. 

"No!" Peter hadn't meant to shout, but the suggestion had caught him off guard. "No, I mean... I'm fine. Better than fine, really." The truth was, he was already feeling like he was little better than a charity case. The money Wade had paid him last week had already made a considerable dent in his monthly expenses, and he _still_ didn’t feel right about taking it. There was no way he could take anything more from the man.  
  
"I don't mean to complain. I mean, I get by. There's a lot of people in this city who don't even have a roof over their heads, y'know?" He set his plate down, its surface all but licked clean, and tucked his legs up under his body, allowing himself to fall against Wade's side.  
  
"You don't have to worry about me," he added quietly. "Y'know, while you're out of town on your job and stuff. I'd feel bad if something happened to you because you were distracted, wondering if I was eating my five-a-day of fruits and vegetables." 

Wade wrapped his arms around Peter as he spoke. “It’s alright to be a little selfish, you know. You can’t worry about every single person on the planet; you’d go nuts. And trust me, I know nuts.” He snickered. “And I know you can take care of yourself. I just like taking care of you too.”  
  
He slid a hand to Peter’s face and lifted his chin to angle him as he bent his head forward and kissed him. It was slow and languid, the night and relaxation catching up to him. Much calmer and more exploratory than their haphazard making out before. Peter wasn't sure which he preferred, but was willing to take the time to find out.  
  
Wade smiled softly as he broke the kiss and booped Peter on the nose playfully.

“Besides, you can't help people on an empty stomach. I’ve tried, it sucks.” 

"Ah, yes. Well I suppose _someone_ has to keep the 24 hour taco trucks busy," Peter mused, before realizing how oddly specific his words had been. "Uh, and the diners, late night shawarma joints. Good for you, supporting local businesses." 

“Oh baby boy, enough about food. Let’s finish up and head to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and I want to get as much cuddle time in as I can.”  
  
Wade grabbed the plates and headed to the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher. He packaged up the leftover lasagna and looked straight at Peter.  
  
“You will take this with you tomorrow, no arguments.” He shook one finger in the air when Peter tried just that. “Nuhuh.”  
  
Once that was taken care of, Wade made sure the front door was locked. It was an action borne more out of his paranoia than necessity since he’d locked it ages ago.  
  
As he turned to head towards his bedroom, Wade lifted Peter up, wrapping the young man's slender legs around his waist before curling his own arms around his back.

“What’s on Petey-Pie’s mind?” He asked as he walked down the hallway, flicking off lights as he went.  
  
Streaming through his large windows, the city lights illuminated them sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a soft rustling as Wade slipped his hands beneath Peter’s shirt to the smooth skin hiding there. He ran his hands up and down the lean muscle of Peter’s back, before leaning his head into the corner of his neck and shoulder, leaving light kisses. 

Peter had grown accustomed to using and controlling his own super strength, as well as carefully estimating the potential damage from some of his more super-charged opponents. So it was surprising to have Wade use his own considerable power to scoop him up and carry him gently towards the bedroom. And _that_ was what was on Peter's mind at this moment- not the act in particular, but the surprise that Wade could be both strong and gentle in the same gesture.  
  
He was feeling the emotion more and more these days. Surprise as he learned more about Wade's personal life. Surprise that they shared more similarities than either one of them might have imagined. But most of all, Peter was surprised at how much he wanted to know more, wanted to keep being surprised.  
  
At least Wade Wilson offered no shortage of opportunities for that.  
  
He hummed softly, leaning his head back to expose more skin to Wade's explorations, cradling the back of the man's scalp as his own eyes slid closed.  
  
"You, mostly...," he murmured. "And how glad I am to be here with you." 

“I’m glad you’re willing to spend time with me,” Wade said against his skin, a trace of sadness breaking through as his grip on Peter tightened slightly. Right now he wanted to focus on Peter and the affection he was willing to give him, not the thought of how he needed to pay him to be here that threatened his peace.

But it was too late, the mix of emotions took hold. He pulled his lips away from the soft skin and bent his head down, hiding his face. Unable to fight the silent tears as they fell down his face, he tried at least to keep Peter from seeing them. Clinging to Peter, Wade used him to ground himself in reality, to keep him from slipping into his mind where things got dangerous. 

Despite Wade's uncharacteristic silence, it didn't take long for Peter to recognize the telltale bucking of his chest and shoulders for what it was, especially not when he had a front row seat to the breakdown Wade was trying to hide.  
  
He didn't drop his hand from where it held Wade's head, but instead slowly began stroking the uneven skin there, continuing his tuneless humming. Part of him wanted to utter quiet hushes, like a mother might when comforting a child, but he ignored the impulse. Sometimes it was better to just let things out.  
  
"Hey, hey it's alright," he said instead. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. It's okay to cry if you need to. I'm... I'm gonna be right here, alright Wade? I'm not going anywhere." 

Wade focused on Peter’s calming voice but his brain couldn’t fully process his words. They were drowned out by the negative thoughts racing through him, but even those were stacking up so quickly he couldn’t make sense of them either. It was like standing in the middle of a giant room where everyone was talking all at once.  
  
Instead, he concentrated on Peter’s tone and his soothing touch. His hand sought out Peter’s, entwining their fingers as he brought them up to his mouth. He made no move to kiss them, instead simply savoring the feeling against his lips.  
  
A deep breath brought in Peter’s scent. There was a familiarity there but it was lost in his muddled mind before Wade could dwell on it.  
  
The voices finally faded some, enough that he felt he could actually breathe again. He lifted his head, eyes still glazed a bit, the world not quite in focus. One hand held tight to Peter’s shirt while their linked hands fell to rest against his chest where his heart still beat too fast.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Wade wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but he couldn’t keep the words from spilling out. 

Peter realized that Wade wasn't just having an emotional outburst, he was struggling to level himself after an anxiety attack. To make matters worse, he was blaming himself for it, as though he was somehow at fault. It was a relief when he started seeking out physical comfort to calm himself, grasping onto Peter like a lifeline.  
  
In the course of his hero work, Peter often had to talk people down from tense situations, but he'd never felt he was particularly good at it. Then again, those people were all strangers and this... this was _Wade._  
  
"You don't need to apologize," he answered, voice just above a whisper. "I'm here for you, whatever you need from me, I'm right here." He let his hand travel down Wade's back, bringing it up and repeating the motion in fluid strokes. "Can you hear my heartbeat, Wade? Can you focus on that sound?" 

“No, too far away.” Wade mumbled as he focused on Peter’s voice. It was still fuzzy, but at least he could understand him now.  
  
He frowned in frustration. It was uncomfortable trying to push down his head to get closer to Peter’s heartbeat. Instead he leaned back, taking Peter down with him, before rolling them over. A little more shifting around and he had Peter’s heart under his ear.

Peter didn't even mind Wade pulling him down if it meant he was able to find some kind of comfort against his body. Even though the two of them had been pressed together just moments before while relaxing on the sofa, this felt completely different, with Wade seeking out specific points of contact to soothe himself. Peter forced himself to remain lax and pliant so Wade had no trouble taking his hand or arm as he needed, instead leaning into the wordless requests.

Wade squeezed Peter’s hand as he brought it back up to his face like he’d had it before, humming a steady but tuneless melody just loud enough for the two of them to hear.  
  
Slowly, the multitude of voices faded, and all he could hear was Peter’s calming sounds.

"That's better, isn't it?" Peter asked softly. "It's alright. There's no shame in taking what you need, not when it's being freely given." 

Wade had sort of zoned out, neither asleep nor awake, floating in the comfort Peter offered. But it didn’t last long as his words pierced through the peace.  
  
“But it’s not free.” He whispered so softly he was sure Peter hadn’t caught it. 

The tears returned to his eyes, but the voices stayed away, the heartbeat beneath him keeping him centered. 

 _That_ cut right to the very core of Peter's doubts about this entire situation. He no longer merely 'felt sort of bad' that he might be taking advantage of Wade and his vulnerabilities, he knew it for a _fact_ now... and so did Wade. Still, he couldn't let his own emotions get the better of him, couldn't let Wade think he wanted to withdraw from the situation just because it had become difficult. The only option was to put his feelings aside and deal with them later. RIght now he had to focus on Wade.  
  
"You've told me over and over I was free to leave whenever I wanted. Asked me if I'd stay the night with you." Ever so gently he pulled Wade a little closer, realizing the truth of his words as he spoke them. "I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't want to. Wouldn't be holding you if I didn't like the way you felt in my arms."  
  
"Isn't that..." He stopped himself and started again, his words soft against Wade's skin.  
  
"Maybe that can be enough?" 

Wade tilted his head to look at Peter. “You’re too good to me, I don’t deserve you. I’m… I’m so sorry.”  
  
He pushed himself up on his arms and rolling over Peter so they could look at each other eye to eye.  
  
“But thank you anyway.” He leaned down and kissed Peter’s forehead, afraid he might fall apart if he kissed him on the mouth again. Everything was still too raw, too sensitive, and Wade was too close to that edge, waiting to fall.  
  
He laid on his side and pulled Peter to his chest, curling around his small body, taking in his comforting warmth. 

Close as he was to Wade, held tightly as the two of them shared a silent moment of shared solace and heat Peter felt protected... cherished. Safe. He only wished he could do the same for Wade.  
  
"No," he whispered, his breath barely brushing against Wade's chest. "You deserve this. You deserve to be cared for... to be cared about..."  
  
Why was this so hard? Why did every word fight him? Why was he so scared of saying the wrong thing and further convincing Wade he'd never choose to stay with him just because he cared?  
  
Spider-Man wouldn't have been afraid. He never worried about what to say, wit and cleverness spilling from him as easily as water. Peter wished he was here now.  
_  
_ “I wish…” _  
_ _  
_ _I wish I knew what to say._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wish I could make you understand._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wish you'd believe me._

"I wish I could be more for you." 

Wade tightened his hold around Peter, grounding himself as the last of his energy left him, leaving his body lose and lax. As he slept, he managed to find a small measure of peace, worries forgotten.  
  
And Peter's words unheard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Yeoyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoyou/pseuds/Yeoyou) for beta reading this chapter for us! 
> 
> Art by Asskisser44 which you can reblog on tumblr [here](https://asskisser44.tumblr.com/post/181586507493/asskisser-44-request-spideypool-food-fight#notes)


	3. Talk Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Wade returns from his mission, Peter has made up his mind to tell him the truth about Spider-Man. Unfortunately things take a turn for the worse, forcing him to hide his face again.

 

 

* * *

Wade managed to sleep through the night without dreams or nightmares to wake him. It was the first time in as long as he could remember, and he was thankful for the rest since the next few weeks promised to be draining. He slid out of bed as carefully as he could, making sure not to wake Peter, letting him get some more sleep while he could.  
  
Pausing for a moment, he watched Peter in the dark as the events from the night before bled into his thoughts. There was no excuse for losing control like that, and Wade knew he’d have to keep a tighter rein on his emotions in the future.  
  
His training came in handy as he maneuvered around the apartment, preparing to leave. After packing his bags, he finished up by placing a breakfast tray on the bedside table with a note before leaning over to place one last kiss on Peter’s forehead and swiftly heading out the door.  
  
===

The last moments of Peter's sleep were tinted with the soft sounds of dishes shifting against each other in the kitchen. Normally, even the slightest sound would rouse him, but there was something so soothing and familiar about the sound of breakfast being made that it blended seamlessly into his dreams.  
  
It wasn't until later, when he finally opened his eyes that he realized the vague images of sitting down at the table with May and Ben weren't unfounded as his sleep-hazed vision finally focused on a plate of wheatcakes on the bedside table.  
  
Peter blinked a few times before sitting up, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't sure where Wade had dug up the recipe, but they looked promising. The gesture was so thoughtful that Peter almost failed to notice the note waiting for him on the tray, but he soon plucked it from its spot and read it.  
  
_Peter,_

 _I’m sorry about last night. Thank you for helping me through_ _my_ _the_ _that mess. I appreciate it._ _  
__  
__I tried my hand at wheatcakes, I don’t know if they’re even half as good as your aunt’s but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless._ _  
__  
__In the envelope is the payment for last night and a little extra for your troubles._ _  
__  
__Also there is a key in there to the apartment. You can give that to the security guard on your way out_ ~~ _or just keep it._~~ _  
__  
__I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, I’ll let you know when I’m home, because I’d like to see you again if you’d be okay with that._ _  
__  
__Don’t forget your leftovers! Your clothes are with your bag._ _  
__  
__Make sure to eat plenty and rest up,_ _  
__Wade_

  
He couldn't really describe what had happened last night as "trouble" the way Wade had put it. It was difficult in some ways, most of which were complications of his own making, but he couldn't possibly have left Wade alone in that state. He seemed to be in better spirits now, though, which was promising.  
  
However the amount of cash in the envelope was almost worrying. Without counting it, Peter knew it was enough to pay _all_ of his bills for the next two weeks at least, meaning he could breathe a little easier. He wouldn't of course, with the end of the semester around the corner and Jameson unrelenting in his efforts to defame Spider-Man with the help of Peter's own photographs. But maybe this meant he could get a half-decent Christmas present for Aunt May _and_ pay his rent on time.

He pulled the wheatcakes onto his lap,deciding now was as good a time as any to indulge in a little breakfast in bed while he tried to figure out what Wade might want as a Christmas gift.  
  
An hour or so later, after cleaning his plate in the sink and pocketing Wade's keys on his way out of the building, he still had no idea.

* * *

Peter knew that Wade had intended to call him when he was back in town, so he hadn't actually expected him to be home when he let himself into the apartment a week later. It would have been a nice surprise, but all Peter really wanted was a quiet space to study and relax away from the construction noise that had sprouted up outside his own bedroom window and Wade's apartment was the perfect fit. He might have ended up dozing on the sofa by accident, but somehow he didn't think the other man would mind.  
  
It eventually became something of a habit, Peter popping in every few days to enjoy some peace and quiet (and heat and cable). He'd nurse a paper cup of coffee from the cafe around the corner, or a slice of takeout pizza, careful not to leave any splotches of grease on Wade's sofa as he sat comfortably squished to one side.  
  
One week became two, and then three, and still Peter had heard nothing from Wade. He'd even taken to stopping by after patrol, peering in through Wade's windows for a sign of the man's return, but had been thus far disappointed.  
  
He tried not to think about it as he went about his daily business, and managed to get a few decent shots for Jameson and a tasteful pair of earrings for May.

It was inevitable that he would revisit the events of the night before Wade left. Time hadn't done much to reframe it in a positive light. The truth was, from that first night, Peter felt guilty taking Wade's money when he should have been a real friend to him in the first place. Wade was... well he was _a lot._ He was intense and loud and brash and often inappropriate. But he was also thoughtful, kind, generous, and funny as hell. And Peter... Peter was realizing he'd been kind of a jerk for letting himself push Wade away just because it was the easy thing to do.

Of course nothing was going to be easy now that he’d gone and gotten money involved. Even with Harry, Peter was always having to figure out ways to keep his friend from paying for everything, working to pay his own way whenever they got together. It was hard, and Harry didn’t fully understand his insistence on the matter, but Peter knew that relationships required a certain balance to function. And there was no easier way to tip the scales than with cold hard cash.

Peter might not be able to pay Wade back, but there was one thing he could do to even things out. For Christmas, he was going to give Wade exactly what he deserved.  
  
The truth.

* * *

Wade slammed his apartment door open with such force it flew back and hit the wall, leaving a hole that he would worry about later. It wasn’t anger, though, that filled him, just a bone deep exhaustion. When was the last time he properly slept? Days, weeks, possibly longer. He had no clue.

Within seconds the floor was littered with his weapons as he stripped them off one by one. His hand hesitated at a small pistol attached to his thigh, before he sighed and left it there. He leaned against the wall of the hallway as recent memories flashed before his eyes.

As soon as he had reached Weasel’s informant, he learned his mission was going to be a bit more complicated. He was only supposed to take out a weapons supplier, but it turned out his business wasn’t only limited to heavy artillery. The next few weeks were spent hunting down the entire sex trafficking outfit and all the buyers they had listed. He barely managed to hold it together as he helped get children of all fucking ages as well as many adults to the proper authorities.

Feeling around blindly in his hallway table drawer, he pulling out the key for the second bedroom. He hadn’t felt the need to use it lately, due in large part to the uptick in his mental health. Wade knew that if he hadn’t been in such a good headspace when he left, there was every chance shit would have gone down so much worse. Eventually, he’d get around to thanking Peter for that, but right now the thought of Peter seeing him like this made him sick.

The door swung open and the scent of death seeped out into the air. The room was never properly cleaned, and dried blood and other body matter decorated its walls. A simple wooden chair waited in the middle of the room as Wade slowly made his way over to it, sitting down heavily. He leaned back, putting his arms on the armrest, sitting perfectly still. For a moment, he debated on taking off his mask, but in the end couldn’t stand the thought of being any more exposed. He’d rather stew in his filthy suit a little longer. A little more blood on top of what was already there would be no bother.

His hand moved down to the pistol still strapped to him. He brought it up to his temple, and finally fell into a peaceful darkness.

* * *

Christmas had come and gone, and while Peter had a pleasant holiday with his aunt and close friends, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. While he hesitated to put a name to his troubles, even he couldn't deny the sudden crackle of excitement in his stomach when he swung by Wade's building and saw light coming from inside.  
  
A quick change of clothes later, and he was letting himself into the apartment, breathless and smiling as he prepared to surprise Wade with a warm welcome home.  
  
"Wade? Hey, it's me! Been ages, but I kept an eye on the place. You have an okay time on the job?" He toed off his shoes in the doorway and threw his coat over the back of the sofa before heading down the hallway. "Missed you at the holidays, but I guess that just means I'm the first to wish you a Merry Chri-"  
  
There was so. Much. Blood.  
  
Peter had seen his share of crime dens, hit and runs, and flat out murder scenes in his time as Spider-Man. That didn't make it any easier.  
  
He covered his mouth with one hand, both out of horror and a vague hope of blocking out some of the smell, but it was hopeless. The entire room was drenched in the stuff. The spots not marred with fresh splatters were still thickly coated in rust colored stains that spoke to their age.  
  
Peter had always assumed this door led to a closet or spare bedroom where Wade kept his munitions. Some place the merc had seen best kept under lock and key, but now he recognized it for what it really was: a place for Wade to go when his darkest demons were unrelenting, when reality became unbearable and a quick death became his only means of escape.

Peter stood in the doorway, motionless, eyes frozen on the body of his friend. He took in the eerie stillness of his chest, the cloud of silence that encompassed him, an aura that might have been peaceful had it not hung over a man who _was_ motion, noise, _life._

"God, Wade." Peter stepped closer, dropping his hands as he pushed the door open a little further. "What happened to you?"  
  
There wasn't time to wait for an answer. Whatever had gone down on the job, it had proven too much for Wade to cope with and he'd handled it the only way he knew how. But Peter would be damned if he'd let him wake up here, surrounded by the evidence of his own losing battle.

With no real clue as to how long it would take for Wade to recover, Peter had to work quickly. He stepped into the room, approaching the wooden chair and deftly slipped his arms under Wade's body, lifting him easily and carrying him to the bathroom floor. Peter stripped off his own shirt before running some warm water and wiping off the worst of the blood. Much of it had run down onto Wade's chest and shoulders, though it was his face and mask that had been all but blown apart by the bullet's impact.  
  
It seemed pointless, dabbing gently at the torn and ruined skin, clearing away the blood from an angry gunshot wound that had ripped straight through the man's skull, but Peter persisted until the worst of it was cleared away.  Maybe it didn't make much of a difference, but Peter knew he had to do _something,_ and taking care of Wade like this was all he could think of.  
  
With one last lift, he carried Wade back to his bedroom, laying him out on the rumpled sheets. At least he'd wake up somewhere familiar and safe. After double checking to make sure Wade wasn't about to wake, Peter returned to the second room and closed the door. He paused, his hand flat against the dull white of the wood before running into Wade’s restroom, suddenly and violently sick.

* * *

“It’s good to see you, Wade.” 

The soft voice pulled Wade’s attention through the endless darkness to a familiar figure, one he hadn’t seen in a very long time. 

“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me.” The figure spoke as she moved closer to him. 

“Death. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“You haven’t been sending many gifts my way lately. These last several, however, they made me so happy.” She placed her arms around his neck, her eternal smile the only thing visible from beneath her hood. 

“Yeah, well I was trying to behave.” he kept his hands to his side, but never looked away. 

“Behave?” She tilted her head. “But why?” 

“Because there is someone topside I care about, but he’s not so fond of me unaliving people.” He smiled softly, thinking of the hero before another face flitted through his mind. 

“So, you’ve fallen for someone else?” Her tone became bitter as she pulled away. 

“I’m sorry, beautiful, but I need something more than this.” He waved his hands between them. 

“I do wish you didn’t have to go.” 

Wade paused, as he realized his usual, “Me too,” no longer felt like the truth. He cast her one last look as he felt himself fade away. 

 _“I’m sorry.”_  

* * *

When Wade finally came to, the massive headache he always had after waking him up was there waiting for him. The ceiling bore down on him as he tried not think about anything, wanting to enjoy a clear head as long as he was able.

But then he blinked again, frowning. He wasn’t in his chair. He wasn’t even in his death room. Somehow he’d ended up back in his bed. Slowly, he pushed himself up, trying to figure out what was going on.

A light snore drew his attention to the body laying on the floor. His eyes widened as he realized it was Peter. It took every fiber of his being to keep from jumping out of the bed and startling the younger man awake, but instead he shifted slowly to the edge of the bed.

For a moment, Wade debated running away, but this was his home, and there was no where else he really wanted to be. Tears fell unbidden as his head fell into his hands. He reached over and opened a drawer on the bedside table where he found the clean mask he always kept for these occasions, and slid it on.

Peter hadn't meant to fall asleep. Aside from seeming extremely rude or even dismissive towards whatever Wade had just gone through, he wanted to be there when the other man woke, just in case he needed anything. But the stress of finding his friend with half of his face blown off had worn down on him and after several hours of sitting watch, even the young hero's body gave in to the need for sleep.  
  
He might have slept even longer if not for the soft scrape of the wooden drawer, just a few inches from where his head had fallen. Gracelessly, he perked up, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes with his palms before searching in the darkened room for his friend.  
  
"Wade?" He asked softly, voice a little rougher than he would have liked. "Are you uh... feeling any better?"

Wade tensed up, and debated not responding. He kept quiet for a moment, staring out the window, the city lights just a blur in his vision.  
  
“Why are you here, Peter?” he asked, shoulders slumping forward. “I don’t want you here.”  
  
It was only a partial lie. Wade would have killed to have him close now, but that was also exactly why he didn’t want him around. Peter didn’t understand and he didn’t _want_ Peter to understand.  
  
“Leave.” The word came out with more force than he intended. _“Please.”_ His voice softer, defeated.

Peter didn't even have the beginnings of a good answer for Wade before he heard the man tell him to leave. Though his shoulders bucked from the unexpected roughness in his voice, it wasn't until he heard the tired, desperate pleading that he started scrambling to his feet.  
  
_He doesn't want you here._ Peter's brain was already going a mile a minute as he started shuffling into his jacket, wondering if he should leave the keys Wade had given him. _He clearly has a system that works for him and you disrupted it, making everything worse. Big surprise there, Parker. When has your interfering really done your friends and family any good?_  
  
_You're always overstepping your bounds where you're not wanted. You think you're helping but, ha! When has Peter Parker ever helped anyone? This is serious and as far as Wade knows you're just a stupid, naive kid who's taking advantage of him... and he's not wrong. You can't help him. He doesn't want your help. Doesn't need it. What he needs is-_  
  
It was just as Peter reached down to grab his shoes that he saw a familiar edge of red, peeking out from behind the coffee table where it had fallen weeks before. He stared at it, lips pursing until they were hardly more than a slim line of frustration.  
  
Maybe Wade didn't want Peter Parker here, didn't want to show him this dark side of his existence because he didn't think he could handle it. But maybe he'd be willing to show it to someone else.  
  
The irony was of course, that Peter was absolutely capable of showing up as the “real” Spider-Man, except there was no reason for the hero to know where Wade lived. And should Wade try to unmask him at any point, learning the truth about his identity right now would only complicate matters further.  
  
"Guess I'll have to figure out something else to give him for Christmas..." Peter sighed, picking up the spandex costume from the floor, and quickly changing into it, mask and all.

Though his Spider-Sense remained silent, Peter still took his time approaching Wade's door, trying to decide whether what he was about to do was a good idea, or somehow both stupid and cruel. He didn't want to hurt Wade, but he also didn't think leaving him alone was the right call either.  
  
"Please, for once in my life, let me be making the right choice..." he whispered to himself before knocking and pushing the door open just enough for his mask to be seen.  
  
"Wade?" He called out. "Do you uh, wanna talk?"

Though Wade had listened to Peter’s footsteps as he left, there was no telltale sound of the front door swinging shut. When he heard his bedroom door creak open, he quickly stood, turned and threw a hidden dagger he’d pulled from his bedside table with deadly accurate aim an inch away from the figure’s face. If Peter wouldn’t listen, he would make him.  
  
“Peter, I said…” but his barking words died in his throat.  
  
Somewhere deep inside his mind, he knew exactly what was going on, but the delusional part was stronger. It pushed all reason to the back. He’d ask questions later. For now, it was gonna embrace the fantasy.  
  
He studied the man in the doorway in silence before speaking at last.

“Spidey?” he collapsed back to the edge of his bed, facing the hero. “I didn’t know you knew where I lived. Did I tell you and forget?” He shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter.”

Though he felt a familiar prickle of danger as Wade's knife sailed towards him, Peter immediately recognized it for what it was- a warning shot. But when he heard Wade call out to his hero, he knew he'd been right before. Wade didn't want innocent little Peter Parker seeing him in this state, but Spider-Man was a different matter entirely.  
  
He knew Wade had to be able to tell the difference between the suits. He hadn't made it as a mercenary with sub-par powers of observation. But he was either too distressed, too wounded, or too desperate to care about the differences now, and was willing to take the lifeline Peter was offering him.

“It was horrible.” Wade’s voice cracked as he spoke. “They were so tiny, so many of them, just so small.” He held out his hands, staring at them, still covered in leather and dried blood.

Peter padded the few steps across the floor, leaving the knife embedded in the wall where it had stuck, until he was at Wade's bedside, where he gingerly took a seat, giving Wade plenty of time to dismiss him if he wanted.  
  
It was strange, but also familiar, sitting side by side with the man after a mission gone wrong. Peter would like to say it was the first time, but they'd both seen too much misfortune for that to be the case.  
  
"It doesn't get any easier, does it?" He said at last. "Seeing that kind of thing."

Wade was tempted to pull Spider-Man to him, to cling to him like his life depended on it, but he knew that they weren’t that close yet. Instead he just reached over and grasped the edge of his sleeve, holding on like a child might during a storm.  
  
It was a long moment before he responded. “I know I’ve committed my share of sins, but I can never understand people like those bastards.”  
  
Anger shot through him, causing him to shake from the ferocity. All at once he shot up, losing his grip on Spidey. Trembling hands gripped the edges of his dresser, the closest thing he could reach. In one fell swoop he lifted it, throwing it across the room where it slammed a hole into the drywall. Still, rage coursed through him. He turned to where the dresser had been and punched a few holes in the wall, each throw a little more desperate than the other.  
  
The anger still bubbled hot in his chest, but icy sorrow began to grow, shrouding his every thought. He fell to his knees, gripping his head in his hands, broken sobs finally tearing from his lungs.  
  
A soft shuffling drew his attention, reminding him he wasn’t alone. He moved toward the sound, casting aside any pretense or respecting personal space before gripping his hero around the waist, resting his head in his lap.  
  
Immediately he felt himself calm. Warring emotions still simmered under his skin, promising him there was only one way to silence them. Instead he ignored them, squeezing Spider-Man tighter.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He took a shaky breath as he spoke. “I killed so many people. I think some of them were innocents. I’m so sorry, Spidey.”

Peter was frozen for a few seconds, hands hovering inches above Wade's shoulders and back. He wanted to reach out, to console him with words and the creature comfort of human contact, but was worried it would seem out of character for "Spider-Man" to do so. The irony was not lost on him.  
  
But as Wade started sobbing softly and begging forgiveness, Peter knew there was no way he could let him continue like this.  
  
"It's..." he stopped himself from rattling off empty platitudes, knowing they wouldn't help anyway.  
  
"It's not okay Wade. None of this is okay. It stopped being okay the minute those children were taken, the very second they were put in harm's way."  His hands made slow and even strokes along the tense muscles of Wade's back, gloved fingers stuttering over the seams and straps of Wade's uniform. "And I know you..."  
  
"I know you had to find a way to stop it. And maybe things got out of control. But that doesn't make you a bad person, Wade. A bad person wouldn't be here now, begging for forgiveness, devastated and broken. Only a good person could care this much, feel the pain of their bleeding heart so badly they want to rip it out of their chest."  
  
"But I'm gonna stay with you, okay, Wade? Gonna help you deal with this. Whatever you need."

Wade let out a strangled chuckle. “I’ve tried that before… Hearts don’t come out so easy.”  
  
The pain didn’t subside, but the gentle caress on his back helped calm him enough to stop the tears. He pulled his attention to his breathing, trying to get that back in control.  
  
“I...I don’t know…” He struggled with the words before taking a lungful of air and trying again. “I don’t know what I need.”  
  
His mind was an ocean of contradiction. He felt simultaneously confined and suffocated, and yet finally felt free enough to breathe. He wanted to crumble and fade into oblivion and scream and shout for the world’s attention all at once.  
  
As he found his mind losing to itself, the room, the apartment, even the city seemed to disappear. It was only Spider-Man’s presence keeping him afloat.  
  
One hand searched blindly for Spidey’s arm, pulling it from its resting spot and finding his hand. He threaded his fingers with his, the red, black, and blue of their suits blurring before his eyes.

 

"I... I don't want to tell you how to cope with what happened," Peter answered plainly. "Despite everything I've ever seen in my days watching over this city, I know it's nothing at all compared to what you've been through."  
  
He returned Wade's grip with a few squeezes of his hand, letting his thumb ride over their knuckles at a steady pace to provide a grounding sense of time.  
  
"But I have had times where I've been so gutted by failure, everything seems hopeless. Worse than that- it seems _pointless_ ." He exhaled deeply. "The only way out for me is to focus on the small things. The routine of getting ready in the morning, from brushing my teeth to making coffee. Counting out change for the train, even counting the steps to the station. Little things. Tangible. Real."  
  
Looking down at Wade, he asked, "You think something like that might help you?"

Wade tried to listen to his words, but they slipped from his mind like drops of water in his hands. But ‘hopeless’ was a word he could latch on to and he managed to follow the phrase, imagining daily tasks play out in his mind.  
  
“Gotta make my bed.” The idea came out of nowhere, but it made sense.  
  
He was certain the sheets were covered in blood and grime from his self-inflicted wound. And the bed was there, in the room, the only place in the entire universe that existed in the here and now.  
  
Not moving for a moment more, he was reluctant to give up the comfort, to relinquish the hand in his. But he did, eventually, slowly, stand, though his hand didn’t leave Spider-Man’s.

"That would be a good start," Peter nodded, not giving any resistance as Wade began to move, keeping their hands as a solid point of contact. He'd never say that he understood what Wade was feeling, but he could empathize with being overwhelmed by the most mundane of tasks. While Spider-Man might be able to lift a truck over his head without breaking a sweat, sometimes even he was too exhausted to wash his own clothes. But Peter wondered if maybe it would have been easier to find the energy to deal with _life_ with someone at his side.  
  
If the hand gripping his own was any indication, Wade might feel the same as well.  
  
The dresser was still upended, fresh sheets stashed away in a bottom drawer. While Wade of course, had the strength to easily flip it back, he felt utterly drained. Instead, he stood, staring at it. He’d get there...eventually.  
  
"So,” Peter began. “We'll need to right the dresser, at least enough to get out some sheets. Then take off the old ones and find a place for them. The laundry maybe? Even just a hamper is fine for tonight. Then we can get to the business of replacing them with new ones and... then we take it from there."  
  
"You still with me, Wade?"

Wade wasn’t sure how long he stood still, just staring at the spot where the dresser met the wall.  
  
The grip on his hand tightened just a moment but it was enough to pull him back from wherever he was. He lifted his hand and glanced at it, slowly remembering he wasn’t alone. Spidey came into focus but while he was speaking again, and Wade could hear the words, it was like the audio wasn’t syncing up.  
  
“I’m here...I think.” came his delayed response.

It was too much for Wade to process at once, Peter realized. In his better moods, Wade could talk the ear off a statue, and Peter himself could ramble when it came to science, tech, or plans. But right now, he had to remember to keep things manageable.  
  
"Let's fix the dresser," he started the list over from the top, giving Wade a gentle tug of the hand. He bent down, placing his free hand on one of the corners currently lying on the ground.

With a nod, Wade followed suit, grabbing a corner and lifting the dresser. It felt heavy and light at the same time. He tried to use his other hand, but stopped as it tugged on Spidey, still reluctant to let go.  
  
It only took a moment more for them to flip the dresser back upright and shove it back into place. The damage to the walls and carpet were a problem for another day.

"Good start," Peter reassured him, giving Wade's hand a squeeze just in case the words still weren't making it through as easily as they should. "It's looking better in here already."  
  
"Now, which drawer are the sheets in? Let's open it up and pull some fresh ones out." He kept his instructions short and easy to understand, trying to emphasize the rote routine of the task, not wanting to overwhelm Wade with anything more than he could handle.

Deadpool’s eyes roamed over the drawers while his memory worked to remember which one he kept spare sheets in. He automatically squeezed Spidey’s hand back, while he processed the next few steps.  
  
Finally comprehension kicked in and he dropped to a knee with a jarring and uncoordinated thud. He opened the bottom drawer, showing it stuffed with all kinds of bed covers, ranging from simple solid colors to full on dorky ones covered in things like Hello Kitty, Avengers, and even a set featuring Spider-Man himself. Though Wade paused to run a hand over the patterned ones, he found them too visually cluttered for the state he was in, their patterns making his head ache and stomach churn. Instead, he grabbed a solid purple one and slammed the drawer closed.

Peter was quick to notice the difficulty Wade has having, though to be fair, even with one hand the man was a destructive force more than capable of dispatching a plastic wrapper. Still, there was no reason to make any of these tasks harder than they needed to be, or remove them from their everyday normalcy. Peter was here _now_ and would make sure to be available for his friend at every possible moment, but he couldn't stick around 24/7, so Wade was going to have to get used to the routine of doing things on his own.  
  
"I like that color," he commented quietly. "With that on your bed, it's almost like you're diving into a deep ocean or something. Probably makes it easier to fall asleep."

Wade couldn’t remember why he’d gotten purple ones in the first place, it wasn’t a usual color choice for him, but the description Spidey gave them did sound peaceful.  
  
Peter gave Wade's hand a solid squeeze of reassurance before cautiously releasing it, maintaining contact as he ran his fingers up his arm to rest on the firm planes of his shoulders and back. "I'm still here," he added. "Just wanted to give you a chance to set things right without interference."  
  
His thumb moved in a slow circle, giving Wade plenty of time to register the fact that he hadn't been left alone before tackling the task ahead of him. "You feel that? Still right here with you."  
  
Wade was reluctant to give up the grounding hand, but before he could become upset, an unexpected shiver ran through him as Spidey’s fingers moved over his bicep. It was a grounding sensation but in a very different way. It scared him, but he didn't want to think on it now. He didn’t want to think about anything but the stupidly mundane task he’d chosen.    
  
He gave Spidey a quick answering nod before he returned to the sheets. They sprung from the plastic which he discarded on the floor. Standing slowly so as not to lose Spidey’s touch, he turned to begin changing the sheets. The old grey ones were tugged off to reveal a stained bed. The mattress itself was fairly new, so it was mostly free of bloodstains, but there was one particularly large set in stain from a particularly bad fight. It was easy enough to ignore and at least there were no new major stains from tonight.  
  
Once the old sheets were thrown into a corner, he picked up the new ones. He looked at them and then the bed, pausing a moment on what to do next. Finally he turned to Spidey.  
  
“It’ll get done faster if you help.” He quickly forced himself to look down at the sheets, his breath catching as the sight of Spider-Man's mask grew hazy with the image of Peter's face. Wade wasn't sure why he was coming to mind now, or why the memories made him so uneasy.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Wade took Spidey’s ~~not Spidey’s~~ hand that rested on him and brought it between them. So they could finish making the bed quickly, he’d have to give it up.

If Wade was able to verbalize a succinct request for help, _and_ recognize that it meant making the small sacrifice of physical contact, Peter took it as a good sign. It meant that while there was certainly a long way to go to bridge the gap of Wade's emotional disconnect, his ability to reason logically wasn't lost. Focusing on these mundane tasks would be a lot easier, and Peter hoped it meant he'd be able to help Wade find some kind of equilibrium.  
  
How did this go when Wade didn't have someone around for support? How did he manage to recover? What did he use to ground himself? How long did he spend emptying bullets into his own skull? Peter hated to think about his friend stuck in an endless loop of self destruction because he felt like he had no one to turn to. He had to make sure that Wade knew Peter would always do his best to help him when things got bad, with or without the suit.  
  
"Yeah, I'll help. You only ever have to ask." He squeezed Wade's hand tightly between both of his own, making sure to face him head on, blank lenses of each of their masks meeting with a serious air. "Let's get this done."  
  
It wasn't the smoothest team effort the two had ever put forth, but a few minutes later the bed had a new set of sheets and one could almost forget that it had been all but covered in blood moments before.

Wade didn’t register much of what he was doing. He could feel the cloth as it slipped over his gloves, could hear the cotton gliding over leather. But once he was done, he couldn’t remember having done it, finding himself standing at the foot of the bed, contemplating falling into it and going back to sleep. He was weary but sleep would not fix it, he knew.  
  
As soon as the task was done, Peter returned his hand to Wade, this time resting it on his shoulder. "Alright. That's all taken care of. We can worry about the old set later. Why don't we get something to eat? I know regeneration takes a lot out of you, some protein and carbs sound like just the thing."  
  
With a gentle push, he started to direct Wade towards the bedroom door.  
  
Wade lifted his hand to where P- _Spidey_ placed his, letting it linger a moment before he dropped his hand back down. It was comforting to have it back.  
  
The mention of food got a small nod, letting Spider-Man know he’d heard him. He let himself be led down the hallway to the kitchen. As he reached out to open the refrigerator, a hand came up and stopped him. Instead he was moved to the chair at the kitchen island. He lost Spidey’s hand as the man moved about the kitchen, working to prepare a quick meal.  
  
He could feel the tug of his mind trying to pull him to the familiar territory, now that there was no physical barrier holding it back. His hands gripped the counter as he focused on his breathing. Part of him wanted to bolt, to return to the familiar pain that lead to quiet for hours on end.  
  
But in that moment a sound caught his attention, giving Wade something to focus on, pulling back toward his progress. He looked up and found Spidey cracking eggs into a skillet, the rush of sounds and smells anchoring him to the present. His eyes followed the hands as they moved, chest loosening as his breaths came easier.  
  
He glanced up, following the eyes of Spider-Man’s mask. They were just a little off, not quite sitting right. He would really need to make a new one.  
  
He shook his head, confused. He didn’t make Spidey’s mask.

Peter could tell that Wade was studying each of his movements, but he didn't find it unnerving. Rather, he used it as an opportunity to reach Wade in different ways. They'd lost the bond of physical contact (for now), so in its place Peter started to narrate his actions, rambling a bit more than even he was used to, making sure to broadcast each movement before he made it so nothing came as a surprise.  
  
"I'll be the first to admit I'm not a _great_ cook, not like some people, anyway, but I have been on my own for a while so I have the basics down. And I've been in a rough spot more than once, I know eggs are easy to digest, something about the way the proteins are put together. I guess that's why bodybuilders put them in their smoothies and stuff, but that's just... ick." He punctuated his thoughts with a slightly cartoonish retching noise.  
  
As the eggs finished, he found a loaf of bread on the counter, unraveling the twist tie and popping a few slices into Wade's toaster while humming a little to himself. "Too bad you didn't have any tortillas, a breakfast burrito would be just the thing right? Well, maybe it's better that we keep it simple. Some eggs, some toast. Maybe some juice? I think I saw a bottle lurking in your fridge."

It was harder than Peter thought it would be, keeping the constant flow of chatter going, especially since he knew Wade wouldn't be doing much in the way of responding. It felt a little like their roles were reversed, and Peter longed desperately for a time when Wade would be at his side on patrol overflowing with every song lyric, movie quote and knock knock joke that came into his head.

Deadpool was only partially listening to Spidey at first, but as he playful retched, Wade felt a small smile flit over his face for a second. It did manage to pull his full attention to Peter’s words and he nodded in agreement to having a breakfast burrito.  
  
His whole body tensed as he caught up with his thoughts. Watching the other look for the juice in the fridge, his realities finally crashed together. He felt a bit sick to his stomach about how he was treating Peter. He was going along with it so well. But why? He had nothing to gain from this. He shouldn’t have been here, seeing this mess Wade could become.  
  
But part of him, the small part that was still working through his breakdown, wanted the strange domesticity to last just a little while longer. He’d have to find a way to make it up to Peter.

"There we go," Peter murmured as he slid the eggs and toast onto a plate. "Easy like Sunday morning. Now why don't you dig in. I'll keep you company."

Wade’s still rebooting brain had caught the words ‘Sunday Morning’ and he began humming the Maroon Five song of the same name as he pulled his plate to him. He looked down, poking the eggs which were still a little runny, but edible. His hand hovered at the edge of his mask, but he couldn’t quite being himself to lift it.

Peter turned his chair just a bit, so he could give Wade a little privacy if he wanted while he ate. He wasn't sure how Deadpool was feeling about his face right now, but based on his refusal to remove his mask or suit, he figured it was a safe bet he didn't want to expose any part of himself, not even to Spider-Man.  
  
Wade glanced over at Peter, thankful he had turned away. Finally, he lifted his mask and began eating. The food helped restart his stomach and he realized just how hungry he was. Sometimes he forgot to eat for days after one of his deaths and it could make recovery that much harder.

"What do you think, Wade? Is there a place for me at the International House of Pancakes?"

“Thank you, Peter.”

Peter had to fight the impulse to turn at the sound of his name, knowing that Wade hadn't yet finished eating. His back and shoulders tensed ever so slightly. It wasn't the same buzzing alert he got when facing real danger, so much as the familiar anxiety he'd get before an exam. Having plenty of practice with both, he was able to force himself to relax and keep his tone neutral when he finally managed to respond.  
  
"Of course," Peter nodded, wondering if the fact that Wade was using his real name meant he was starting to relax a little, or if he was just tired of the strange ruse.  
  
"You shouldn't... I mean no one should... not that that's the only reason I would..." He stopped, took a deep breath and began again.  
  
"I don't want you do be alone. Not when you're like this. Not when it's hard to put the pieces of yourself together and everything is disconnected. Not if I can help." He swallowed, his tongue darting out to cross his dry lips beneath the borrowed mask. "And even if I can't help... even if all I can do is sit with you... even then..."  
  
Peter's head turned a fraction of an inch before he stopped himself, and forced his gaze to the kitchen wall and away from Wade's face once more.  
  
"I just want you to know you don't have to be alone."

Wade shrugged, knowing Peter couldn’t see it. “I usually go through this...stuff alone. I’m used to it.” Deadpool set the fork down on his empty plate. “But I appreciate you being here, you know I always am.”  
  
Sliding the bottom edge of his mask down, feeling the comfort of being fully covered again, he turned towards Peter and tugged at his chair to look at him. His breath caught for a moment again as he was met by the mask. Quickly reaching up and taking it off of Peter, he needed to keep himself from falling back into a fantasy world.  
  
“Still, I am sorry you had to see that though. You deserve better.”  
  
Deadpool shook his head and looked down at his hands resting on his knees.  
  
“How long was I out of it? Hell, how long was I gone? My sense of time is completely shot.” He asked, not sure he was ready to stay on one topic, or even if he could yet.

"It's been nearly a month," Peter replied, his voice rough as he slowly grew accustomed to the feeling of cool air on his cheeks again.  
  
"I tried not to worry, I know that your... work... can be unpredictable at times, especially when..." No. That wasn't a path he should venture down just yet.  
  
"I checked in from time to time. At first it was just to make sure the apartment was okay... well, and maybe to watch your fancy TV a little bit." Peter gnawed on his lip a little at the admittance. "But then I just started to miss you and, I don't know, I thought maybe I'd surprise you or something when you did get back... Kept thinking I'd see you for Christmas... make a night of it or something."  
  
He reached out slowly, cupping both sides of Wade's masked face. "I'm happy you're here now. And... I know you think I can't handle things like... like _this..._ but I promise you, I'm a lot tougher than I look. And for better or worse, I'm glad I could be here for you tonight."

The admission had the small smile growing larger on Deadpool’s face, and this time it stayed. Something inside him warmed at the thought of Peter waiting for him to come home. Then he mentioned Christmas and spending it together and Deadpool knew he himself might be far too attached. It both excited and terrified him.  
  
His hands caught Peter’s wrists as they cupped his face. “Sorry for doubting you, baby boy.”  
  
He pulled Peter to him, wrapping him in his arms in a tight hug.

It was easy, _so_ easy for Peter to let himself ease into Wade's arms, to breathe in the scent of him, to bring his own arms to rest on the broad muscles of his back as his fingers drifted over the textured leather of the other man's suit.  
  
"It's okay," Peter whispered. "We're still just getting to know each other." He tightened his arms just a little. "But we have time. One day we'll get there. But for now," he pulled back just enough to look at Wade straight on, "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Peter leaned forward, resting his head against Wade's chest and allowed his hands to travel in lazy paths over the man's back and sides. Their dreamlike meandering was occasionally interrupted by the jagged texture of a rip or hole, which made Peter frown.  
  
"Your suit has seen better days."

Wade rested his head atop Peter’s, soaking him in. He’d missed this. It was a peace he’d already become addicted to. His muscles loosened, and even in the kitchen chairs, found he wanted to nod off.  
  
Snickering as Peter’s voice pulled him out of his daze, he responded back. “Very true. I’m not exactly sure how long I’ve been in this particular getup.”  
  
Sitting up and looking down at himself, he chuckled. “How can you even stand being near this unhygienic mess?” he asked. “I think it’s time I showered.”

"When you see the state of my favorite hoodie and pair of jeans after finals week, _then_ we can talk about unhygienic," Peter snorted. It was hard to believe that not even an hour ago, the man in his arms needed help pulling sheets from a dresser drawer. It was a testament to how strong Wade was, how much of a fighter he had to be just to make it through each day. (Although selfishly, Peter wanted to think that maybe he'd helped with the recovery, even a little bit.)  
  
"Are you alright to handle that on your own?" He was a little startled at his own suggestion. "Er, not that I'm saying I ought to hop in there and give you a sponge bath... but I could always send in a rubber duck or two to keep an eye on things. _You!_ Keep an eye on _you!"_

Before Wade could respond to Peter that he’d be fine, Peter was stumbling over his words. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

Wade's laughter was everything Peter had missed over the last month, and exactly what he wanted to hear now. He'd gladly embarrass himself a hundred times if it meant hearing the deep rumble that was comforting, enticing and warm all at the same time.  
  
“Peter…” Wade was honestly very tempted to flirt and fluster Peter more, but his anxiety flared up and stole his words. Instead, he just shook his head as he repeated Peter’s name a few more times.  
  
Eventually, Wade stood from his seat, and pulled away from the warmth of the other man “I’m gonna go grab some clothes and shower. Are you staying the night?” He asked, half hopeful, half wanting Peter to go home. Ultimately it seemed easier to leave the choice up to him.  
  
"Only if it's alright," Peter ventured, though he imagined Wade wouldn't have given him the option if it wasn't. "When I saw your lights on I was really looking forward to spending some time with you and..." There he was, venturing too close to the danger zone, he could almost feel himself teetering at the edge of an unseen drop.  
  
"I guess I'm not ready to leave you just yet."

The mask hid the soft smile that played over Wade’s face at Peter’s sentiment. His heart squeezed and he knew he’d have to reevaluate some things soon. But for now, they needed rest.  
  
“Okay, then you can shower after.” Wade placed his hand on the back of Peter’s head and pulled him close so he could drop a quick mask covered kiss to the top of his head.  
  
He let his hand slide away before making his way to his room and fished out clothes. The room was a complete disaster, but Wade ignored it, still doing his best to focus on one thing at a time.  
  
After starting the water, Wade paused, looking down at his hands. He would need to move quick if he was going to make it through the shower before his anxiety really kicked in. He ran through the plan in his head, making sure he had the quickest movements planned. Sometimes, he was thankful the military taught him how to shower in under five minutes.  
  
With a deep breath, Wade stripped and moved into the shower quickly but still careful not to fall. He didn’t think, just let the practiced muscle memory guide him through his routine of cleaning up, drying off and getting dressed. Just as his breathing was picking up, he slipped his mask back on. He was more comfortable now, but he was still covered head to toe. A ragged old hoodie and sweatpants covered most of him, then socks over his feet and a pair of black gloves he kept stashed away when he was in this state.  
  
Wade made his way down the hallway, finding Peter still in the kitchen. “When you’re ready, the shower’s all yours.”

Peter had hardly managed to wash the dishes from Wade's simple dinner when he heard the bathroom door open. His head snapped up at Wade's voice, and he was pleasantly surprised to see the man had chosen to wear some of his "civvies" rather than donning a fresh suit. Every inch of him remained covered and his mask was still firmly in place, but Peter recognized it for the huge step forward it was. For the first time that night, he felt himself relax a little, knowing at last that he'd made the right choice in staying.  
  
"Thanks. I'll just be a few minutes?" He set the last plate down to dry and started heading towards the bathroom when he stopped to face Wade. "Is it alright if I borrow a shirt or some sweats to sleep in? I didn't pack for the night... but I can just wear my old stuff or..." He picked at the spandex clinging to his chest.  
  
"I can keep this on, if... if you'd rather."

Wade brought his hand up to stop Peter’s nervous pulling on the suit. “No, you don’t have to wear that. Help yourself to any of my things.”  
  
Wade shifted to let Peter pass, watching him as he went. Standing a moment where he was, his thoughts battling it out.  
  
It was surprising how quickly he’d gotten through the worst of his breakdown. Usually with just himself for company, it took a few days and a few more bullets. He brought his hand up to his face and flexed it. Having someone else present as a grounding source had been...amazing.  
  
The sound of the bathroom door closing brought his focus back, reminding him once more that he wasn’t alone. He smiled, and tried to think of things to do for Peter as thanks while he made his way to the bedroom.  
  
He did a quick clean, gathering the old bedding and any other trash in the room and disposing if it. Eventually, he’d have to deal with the holes in the wall and other cosmetic damage to the room later when he could make a trip to the hardware store.  
  
Once done, he sat on the edge of the bed, intrusive thoughts finally catching up to him. He shoved his hands into his face, trying to pick one thought and work through it before zeroing in on the one that had started it all.  
  
He thought of those he’d killed, the people who thought they were indestructible, but in truth no one was. The memory forced a growl from Wade, before he reminded himself they were no longer a threat to anyone. Then he thought of those he’d managed to save, hoping they wouldn’t become lost in the system as they reintegrated back into normal lives. Finally, Wade thought of those he didn’t make it to in time, or the ones who were so blinded by their owners that they came between them and his bullets. He knew he couldn’t help everyone, that was impossible, but it still hurt.  
  
He fell back on the bed, face still covered, tears soaking his mask.

* * *

It was difficult for Peter to keep from lingering under the warm water of Wade's shower as it sluiced over his head and shoulders. His own water heater was unreliable at best and the water pressure at his apartment was irregular and dribbly. He paused for a few moments, letting the water carry away the sweat clinging to his skin and the the aches held deep in his bones, but quickly turned to wash himself, knowing expediency was key. Even if Wade seemed to be over the worst of his dissociative panic, it didn't mean he was out of the woods just yet.  
  
After quickly towling his hair and pulling on a borrowed Captain America t-shirt from Wade's clean laundry pile, Peter stepped back into the hallway, lamenting the loss of the warmth from the steamy air. The kitchen was silent, meaning Wade had probably decided to go ahead and return to the bedroom for the rest of the night.  
  
Though Peter was pleasantly surprised to see Wade had been steady enough to make a little more headway with the cleaning, his attention was quickly drawn to the still form of the man, fallen back on the bed. There was something uneasy about his posture, a tension that didn't indicate a restful mind. And while sleep might be what they both needed most right now, it seemed getting there might be tricky.

"Hey," Peter spoke softly, crawling up on the mattress to take a seat cross legged on the bed near Wade's head. He placed one hand on his shoulder, giving two gentle squeezes to the muscle there before simply letting his hand rest against him, soaking in the heat of Wade's body. The occasional bucking of his chest and shoulders didn't escape Peter's notice.

Wade felt the bed dip as Peter joined him on the bed. Dragging his hands away from his face as Peter’s placed a grounding hand on his shoulder, he turned his gaze to him.

Peter took a deep breath, forcing himself to exhale as slowly as he could as he tried to imagine what Wade might be feeling right now. Defeat, for sure. Hopelessness. Confusion, almost always. And yet somehow, he still managed to pick himself up and keep fighting.

"You've been through a lot." Peter spoke quietly, keeping his words vague so Wade could decide what he did or didn't want to talk about. "And I know it hasn't been easy. But you.... you're home now. And you deserve some rest. Some peace."  
  
“I don’t think I can ever have peace, but I can get close.” Wade replied softly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility in the air.  
  
He shifted on to his side, his hand lifting to drag Peter down to lay next to him but he paused.  
  
“So pale,” he whispered as his hand came down and landed lightly on Peter’s knee, his black glove a stark contrast. “Like porcelain.”  
  
It had caught him off guard, and managed to shove his previous thoughts aside. Wade moved his hand down Peter’s calf, faintly feeling the muscles there shift under his fingers. It was a pleasant distraction, but he stilled as he realized what he was doing. Worrying his lip, a small part of him was tempted to remove his glove, but he couldn’t bare to see his skin at the moment, especially next to Peter’s.  
  
“Is this okay?”

Wade's hesitation confused Peter for a moment, but he realized the reason for his reservation. Even though they'd shared much more intimate moments, and more than a few heated kisses, that was all technically under the umbrella of what Wade had paid him for. But right now, Peter was here of his own volition, simply seeking out his friend because he missed his company and found he was needed in more ways than one. Yet as far as Wade knew, this could all be part of some undisclosed transaction.  
  
Not for the first time, Peter cursed his uncanny ability to complicate even the simplest matters in his life.  
  
"It's more than okay," he nodded, a soft smile visible on his face even in the dark of the room. He unfolded his legs so they sat out straight in front of him, slow enough that it was clear he didn't mean to displace Wade's hand. His brow crinkled a little as he studied his own skin, not sure what the man found so fascinating.  
  
"I could probably stand to get a little more sun," he said, "but I'm too much of a night owl. Maybe I should look into adding some vitamin D into my regimen."  
  
He scooted around ninety degrees until he was able to put his back to the head of the bed. Though his uncovered legs were still in reach of Wade's outstretched arm, Peter tugged on his gloved hand, patting the space next to him.  
  
"Come on," he guided him. "Let's get comfortable."

Wade was reluctant to move, comfortable as he was, but he didn’t want to deny Peter. His movement was sluggish, but he pulled himself up and crawled over to sit next to him, leaning against the headboard.  
  
He suddenly found himself uncertain of what to do with his hands. All his previous movements of the day had been thoughtless, his mind elsewhere. But now he was overthinking each and every one. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped an arm around them, the other propping up his head as he looked over at Peter.  
  
“You’ve got an amazing heart, you know?” He said softly.

Peter opened his mouth to object, but could hear the voice of Aunt May sharply chiding him, telling him to learn to accept a compliment, especially one as heartfelt and hard won as the one Wade was giving him now. He fought the urge to shrug off the words, and instead thought a little harder about their meaning.  
  
"When I was a kid, I got picked on a lot," he said, almost out of nowhere. "Not a huge surprise. I was a scrawny, awkward bookworm who couldn't catch a ball if my life depended on it. I lost count of the number of swirlies I got and lockers I was crammed into.  
  
"It used to bother me so much, feeling so... so powerless, while everyone around me was so strong. And there was some part of me, a tiny, angry, unhappy voice that begged and pleaded for the day that things would be different, and I'd be able to get back at everyone who ever hurt me. Like somehow that would prove I was stronger than I used to be."  
  
He reached down at the foot of the bed, fingers digging into the folds of one of Wade's blankets. He pulled it up towards the both of them, casting it over Wade's hunched shoulders, finding a place beneath it for himself so he could lean against him in the fluffy, makeshift tent for two.

Wade smiled fondly at Peter as he wrapped them up and leaned against him as he spoke.

"I think my aunt could tell, you know? Like she could sense I was holding on to all this anger, that it was eating at me from inside." He sighed, thinking back to an afternoon not as long ago as it seemed. The way the front door had slammed as he stomped upstairs to his room. How he expected his aunt and uncle to leave him to stew, or worse, force him down to the table for dinner.  
  
What he hadn't expected was for his aunt to come into his room, take a seat on his bed, and start stroking his hair, sitting with him in companionable silence.

"She told me that anger and violence aren't the actions of the strong. That it takes real strength to be forgiving, and kind. To pick other people up even when the world keeps knocking you down."  
  
One arm snaked its way behind Wade, resting lightly against his back, and Peter tested the waters with a gentle squeeze.  
  
"I get the feeling you might understand that better than most."

Wade dropped his knees and reached over, pulling Peter’s legs to drape over his before curling his arm around Peter’s shoulders and resting his chin lightly on the top of his head before letting out a sad huff of a laugh.

“You’re learning to read me like a book, Pete.” He ran a hand through Peter’s hair. “I thrived on anger and violence for a long time. Honestly, it wasn’t til I bunked here in NYC for a mission that I even considered anything else.”  
  
He went quiet a moment, debating if he wanted to continue, but really at this point, Peter had seen so much of his regular self, there was nothing left to hide.  
  
“Things changed when I met Spider-Man. At first I thought his methods were dumb and that whatever infatuation I had, was just from meeting a superhero. But as I watched him work and grew to know him, as well as one can behind a mask, the infatuation became something...more. But I knew he couldn’t return the feelings, so I took that feeling and turned it into a drive to do better, to be better. For him.”  
  
Wade buried his face in Peter’s hair even though the mask still hid his expression. His heart raced in his chest; he hadn’t admitted all of that out loud before.

Peter wanted to enjoy being all but cradled in Wade's lap, he really did, but the man's admission was charged with such sincerity that he couldn't help but feel that he was betraying that trust. Sure, Wade had flirted rather openly with Spider-Man, even insisting that it was more than a passing fancy or overgrown man crush, but he'd never spoken about his obsession with the web-slinger in such bare and open terms.  
  
Peter _had_ noticed on more than one occasion how different Deadpool was these days from their first unfortunate meetings. Not only did he no longer loathe the sight of the mercenary entering the field of battle, he'd actually grown to enjoy his presence on missions, and that had a lot to do with him learning to reign in his instinct to kill. For a long time he'd assumed Wade was just trying to be on his best behavior for a chance to get into Spider-Man’s spandex pants, a thought he felt plenty guilty for now.  
  
"I'm glad," Peter began, his voice more strained than he'd meant it to sound, "that you found someone to... inspire you. To be your best... well... _you_."

It wasn't the first time Spider-Man had encouraged someone to act the part of a hero. New York City was full of grade schoolers who pulled on paper masks and pretended to save the world from the comfort of their own bedrooms. And the thought of helping Wade in that way warmed Peter's heart, it really did. But it also left him with that all too familiar ache that while Spider-Man could call to people's better natures, Peter was just...  
  
Well, Peter was just a nice guy. One who'd sit up with you after a rough night and let you talk his ear off, but nothing special in the end.  
  
"Spider-Man is pretty great," he heard himself say. "And if he's the reason you've decided to stick around, I'm glad you've gotten to know him."  
  
"Do you..." the words stuck in Peter's throat for a split second before tumbling out unbidden. "Do you still... have... um... you know... feelings? For him?"  
  
As soon as the question was out there, Peter realized his mistake. He couldn't ask something like that, not while Wade had no idea who he was!  
  
"I... oh my god, I'm sorry!" His head shot up immediately smacking against the underside of Wade's jaw. "No, you don't have to tell me. That's so... so not any of my business."

Before Wade could get a chance to answer Peter, the words on the tip of his tongue, Peter’s sudden movement clipped them off. He hissed in pain as he bit his tongue, bringing up a hand to his chin.  
  
“Jeezus, you have a hard head, Peter.” He said, stifling a laugh.  
  
He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder as he waited for the swelling to go down before continuing.  
  
“I think the two of us are well past the oversharing part of our relationship.” But as he looked down at the expression on Peter’s face, he lifted a nonexistent eyebrow. “Is someone jealous?” He teased.

Peter's fingers curled uselessly at Wade's back. _Was_ it jealousy he was feeling? Could you feel jealous of yourself? Or was that a problem reserved especially for masked vigilantes with secret identities and savior complexes?  
  
"N...not exactly..." he mumbled, tipping his head low. He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before speaking again, doing his best not to put both feet in his mouth. "I just meant that you... you said you were trying to be better because of him. _For_ him. And I think that you _are_. Better, I mean. You're good. Probably even verging into 'great' territory if you ask me."

“I dunno, great still seems a bit far removed.” Wade waved the comment off. He didn’t even feel like he was good at the moment.

"And you never know," he said quietly, allowing the blanket to fall over his face a bit. "He... he might feel the same way."

Wade rubbed his chin as the last of the pain faded away before turning back to Peter, confused as he seemed to be closing in on himself.

He picked up the blanket off Peter’s face, trying to get a read on him. “Hey little turtle, why are you hiding in your shell. Not really helping your argument here.” His tone was light but soft.

"I am at the very least a _medium_ turtle," Peter pouted, hoping his mild scowl would help to hide the shame he felt at letting his earlier feelings of insecurity show through the cracks when he was meant to be comforting Wade.

“Anyways, even if Spidey did return my feelings, he deserves someone better than me.” Wade shook his head as he bit off the ‘and so do you’ part he wanted to add. That train of thought belonged in the mess he’d have to examine later when Peter wasn’t around.

"You... you don't know that," he insisted. "I mean, sure he looks cool when he's wearing the webbed up tights and swinging through the city, but so would _anyone._ For all you know, when Spidey is off-duty, he's just like... some guy who... doesn't floss and spits gum on the sidewalk and, uh, always forgets to 'Be Kind Rewind'. Or at least he might have when videotapes were still a thing."

“Jeez seems like you might be the one with the feelings for Spidey, all the thought you’ve put into it.” Wade laughed. “‘Be Kind, Rewind’. I haven’t heard that in years.”

After a moment of silence, Wade yawned. “Alright, Alright, enough about the webhead, we should get some sleep. I don’t know what day it is, but I bet you have work of some kind you’ve neglected to take care of fragile ole me.”

Wade shifted blankets and pillows around, dragging the two of them to lay down. He pulled Peter close, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Right. Sleep. In the chaos of the day Peter had all but forgotten. Beds weren't just for having emotional breakdowns and subsequent rebuilding sessions.

He let his hands creep up to Wade's chest, placing his palms flat over his shirt, letting the strong rhythmic pounding of the other man's heart reassure him that everything would be all right. Eventually.

“Thank you, Peter. I can’t say it enough.” Wade whispered, his breath hitching just slightly from the memory of the evening.  

"You're welcome," he said quietly, not wanting Wade to think he'd ever want to refuse his gratitude, even if it was for something he would have done regardless. "I'm sure you'd do the same for me."  
  
Peter caught himself, blinking rapidly, realizing how strange the words sounded, and how truthful they felt just the same.

Wade brought a hand up to cover one of Peter’s. “Even so, do try not to shoot yourself in the head. Unless there is something you’re not telling me, I’m pretty sure yours won’t grow back.”

He rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand, wishing once more he was in the right state of mind to take off even just a glove. He wanted to feel Peter’s touch, caress his pink tinged cheeks. But all of that would have to wait until a time when he didn’t want to skin himself alive at the sight of his reflection.

With a huff, he shoved those thoughts back into the dark corner of his mind reserved for such unpleasantries. Instead, he focused on breathing and relaxing. He let go of Peter's hand and cupped his cheek, tilting him down and brushing their foreheads together.

Peter relaxed his body, falling easily into Wade’s hold until the two were brought together in a motion that almost felt like a kiss. It was strange that the gentle brush of their foreheads would cause Peter's heart to skip a beat, considering the two of them had shared a far more heated evening weeks ago but that night seemed like another lifetime entirely, and worlds away from the quiet moment between them now.

“Night, Peter.”  
  
"Goodnight, Wade," Peter whispered, unsure if the other man was even awake.  
  
"Sleep well."

* * *

Wade woke up very overheated. It was his own fault for sleeping fully covered, but he’d slept in worse conditions. It didn’t help that Peter was curled into his side, a little heater all on his own. It was worth tolerating the heat though, just to watch the peaceful look on his face for a few more minutes. He ran a hand through Peter’s hair, gently brushing it from his face.

A surge of energy ran through him, and he extracted himself before his fidgeting woke up Peter. He stealthed to his closet to get a fresh suit and moved to the bathroom to change.

Once he was done, Wade made his way to the kitchen. He was hungry but not in any mood to cook. The cabinets and fridge yielded few options anyway, meaning he’d have to stock up when he ventured outside again. After a third glance through, he gave up and headed to the couch, the short burst of energy waning, and plopped down, turning on the tv, keeping the volume low.

Peter had slept well, and his eyes were slow to open. He sighed deeply, mind still filtering through the vague remnants of images from his dreams. He didn't remember exactly what he'd experienced in his sleep, his mind leaving him with nothing but vague images of Wade suiting up before leaving to patrol with Spider-Man while he watched the pair disappear into the night.  
  
Still half asleep, Peter reached out to feel for Wade, finding only the faint indentation of where his body had been before.  
  
Eyes snapping open, Peter pulled himself upright in bed, paying no mind to the lamentable state of his hair or the deep imprint of his pillow pressed into his cheek. He saw Wade's nightclothes abandoned on the floor, and the closet door open just beyond that. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Wade was back in his suit.  
  
"Wade?" He called softly, not sure if he should expect an answer.  
  
Reluctantly, Peter pulled himself from the bed, straightening out his borrowed shirt and digging in Wade's dresser until he found a pair of sweatpants that just about fit if he rolled them up.  
  
He stumbled out into the hallway, following the soft sound of voices on the television. Sure enough, Wade was there, sitting stone still in his Deadpool leathers.  
  
"Morning," Peter called out quietly, more to announce himself so he wouldn't risk startling him. He reached out and placed a hand on each of Wade's shoulders before leaning down over the back of the sofa so their heads were just about level. "You sleep okay?"

Wade shifted around to his knees to take in the sight of half-asleep Peter. “Anyone tell you that you look absolutely gorgeous in the morning?” He pulled him into a hug, tucking his head under his chin. “No dreams for a change. I’ll take it.”

He pulled back, bringing his hands down around Peter’s waist and lifted him over the back of the couch, settling him in his lap. “What about you? Any good dreams in that brainy noggin of yours?”

Peter barely had time to recover from the goofy compliment before he was being pulled up and over the sofa. He let out an ungainly squawk, arms flailing blearily in the air more out of reflex than any real desire to escape, especially not when Wade's gloved hands brushed against him so gently.  
  
"No dreams worth talking about," he mumbled, telling himself it was true. "Didn't cook up plans for a flux capacitor or an amazing new flavor of gelato, so I guess that was eight hours wasted," he smirked.

“Damn and I had hoped to try a new gelato flavor today.” Wade flopped back onto the couch arm, throwing a hand over his face. “Foiled again.”

He ran a hand over the imprint on Peter’s cheek, chuckling lightly. “What’s on your docket today, baby boy?”  
  
"School doesn't kick back up for a few more days yet, so I _should_ get a jump start on some reading, but I don't really feel like it. Unfortunately my boss at the Bugle doesn't care one jot how I feel, so I need to finish editing some photos and a few lines of copy for him by this afternoon."  
  
"But uh, I thought before that..." he looked up into Wade's masked face hopefully. "Breakfast?"  
  
Wade moved his arm off his face, letting it dangle off the couch. “Well, I’m not in the mood to cook, and I believe you finished off the eggs for last night’s dinner.” He squinted, thinking. “And not sure there’s a place around here that would deliver breakfast.”

Was he being dismissed? Maybe Wade was finally tired of him hanging around, or needed some alone time to decompress, or maybe he was just annoyed Peter had emptied his fridge without even really asking. But it _sounded_ like he was passing on Peter's breakfast plans and hoping he would take the hint.  
  
"Oh, that's... Uh that's alright. I can just... Grab a cup of coffee or something on the way to the Bugle..." He pulled on a smile, nodding as his fingers twisted in the loose cloth of his shirt.  
  
Reluctantly, he pulled himself up and out of Wade's lap. "Yeah, I'll just get out of your hair? I mean you don't have hair.  I have hair. Too much really. You probably save a lot on shampoo..."

Wade resented the loss of weight as Peter stood up, and his hand automatically grabbed the hem of the shirt before he could run off. He frowned as Peter rambled about work and shampoo before rising to stand in front of him.

Unfortunately for Peter, his attempts to gracefully excuse himself (which were already going pretty terribly) we're further interrupted when his stomach let out a rather displeased growl that echoed in the room for ages.

“No, no, you’re going to eat. I’m going to make sure you do.” Wade poked Peter in the stomach, amused by the growl. “Just...give me a minute. Go get dressed and then we’ll head out.”  
  
Peter had half expected Wade to simply wave him out the door and was more than a little thrown when he announced plans to go out. Did he really feel up for something like that? It seemed ambitious, to say the least, so Peter would have to keep a close eye on him, if only to make sure the lights, sounds, and particularly the other people beyond Wade's door didn't end up being too much for him.  
  
"Uh. R-right." He stammered, looking down at himself. Without any other options he simply found yesterday's jeans and pulled them on, fussing for a moment as he tried to decide between tucking the oversized shirt into his waistband, or letting it hang low, nearly to his knees. He knew he looked rather like a castaway either way, but didn't want to draw any more attention to the two of them than absolutely necessary.

Wade really didn’t want to leave his apartment but he owed Peter for sticking around while he was out of it. Buying him breakfast was the least he could do. He set his jaw in determination, grabbing his green jacket from the coat rack and feeling for his wallet in its pocket.

"This is as good as it gets," Peter declared, panning up and down his torso with one hand. "Drink it in."

Wade smiled and shook his head at Peter’s appearance. “You need me to find you one of my crop tops? I might still have an X-Men trainee one that didn’t get burned up somewhere in my drawers. Probably wouldn’t even be short on you.”

"That's alright," Peter smiled, the ridiculousness of his appearance and Wade's suggestion doing a lot to alleviate the tension he'd been holding in. "I'll head home after we eat to change into something that makes me look more like an employed adult and less like the kid at the end of "Big"."  
  
"Besides," he hummed, pulling on his shoes and backpack, "maybe like this they'll let me order off the kid's menu. Funny face pancakes, you will be mine!"

Wade playful pushed Peter’s head down as if he was a silly child, laughing. “Alright, baby boy, let’s get you fed.”  
  
He led Peter out of the apartment, keeping close as tension threaded through his body, but never quite bringing himself to touch him. It was one thing behind closed doors, especially when money was involved, but it was another thing entirely when they were out in public. He was just taking his new friend to a nice place for breakfast.

Peter's hand twitched at his side. It seemed natural to want to take Wade's hand in his own, as the contact had been both welcome and helpful in keeping him grounded the night before. Now though, it felt like Wade was recoiling ever so slightly if their hands even brushed on accident as they made their way down the street. Perhaps he didn't feel comfortable revealing his vulnerabilities out in the open. Peter could respect that, but he wanted to be sure.  
  
He settled for letting his arms dangle a little more loosely than normal, swinging them under the pretense of working out the kinks in his shoulders, so at least his arms would brush against Wade's, letting the other man know casual contact was still fine by him.

Wade glanced over at Peter as he swung his arms, smiling a little. He still held back from taking one but it was comforting knowing Peter wouldn’t mind if he changed his mind.

"I can't remember the last time I managed to eat a proper breakfast," Peter thought aloud. "Or at least the last time I was up early enough."

They rounded a corner and Wade could see the cafe. “How do you function when I’m not around?” he shook his head in humourous disbelief but Peter only shrugged.  
  
When they reached their destination, Wade held the door to let Peter walk in first. He glanced around, realizing they had arrived at an optimal time. The early risers had cleared out and the next morning rush had yet to happen, so there weren’t many people inside. He placed a hand at the small of Peter’s back with the barest of pressure as he guided them to a corner booth away from the door.

Peter inhaled sharply at the brief moment of soft contact, but soon exhaled, relaxing into the touch as he followed Wade's lead to the table. He pulled two menus from their spot, tucked between the sugar caddy and maple syrup, handing one to Wade before pulling his own open.  
  
"Oh my god, hashbrowns. I forgot about hashbrowns. And pigs in a blanket!" The happy moan that escaped him was sincere and unabashed. "We should have breakfast more often."

“You do realize you can have breakfast at anytime, right?” Wade chuckled as he watched Peter light up at the choices. “Order whatever you want. Breakfast is on me.”  
  
Wade set the menu down, already knowing what he wanted and instead made himself content at watching Peter. Unconsciously, he kept tabs of everyone in the cafe plus those coming in and out of the door. Without him realizing, a leg slid across the floor and settled next to one of Peter’s.

"I know you can make bacon and eggs any time," Peter agreed. "You're talking to the president of the Cereal for Dinner club. But just because it's breakfast food doesn't make it _breakfast."_  
  
He looked around the cafe, taking in the waitresses milling about, the cooks on the other side of the counter whistling some half forgotten Elvis tune as they plated up waffles, and the smell of coffee that hung in the air.  
  
"Breakfast is more that just a meal. It's... the start of new things. New possibilities. New friends." He gave Wade an earnest smile, eyes flickering up for just a moment as their server started towards them.  
  
_"It's the most important meal of the day,"_ he nodded somberly.

Before Wade could respond, the server was at their table, a pad at the ready.  
  
“What can I get for you today?” she asked, her voice surprisingly more chipper than she looked.  
  
“Coffee, OJ, two stacks of pancakes, scrambled eggs and a double side of ham.” Wade rattled off his usual order, eyes still glued to Peter.  
  
Even though he’d dined here countless times before, this morning nothing sat right. The scent of coffee was to strong, the song on the radio too loud. Every second that ticked past he could feel the weight of the server’s stare boring down into him a little more. He wanted to run, to go back to hiding in his apartment but instead he tapped his foot a little harder, focused on his breathing, and tried to keep himself from panicking.  
  
The server jotted down his order and turned to Peter, jabbing her pen towards him. "What about you?"

Peter held Wade's gaze, giving him the faintest of nods as he turned to the server. With the utmost seriousness he gave her his order, extra crispy hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, a large orange juice and a plate of pigs in a blanket with extra whipped cream and strawberries on top.  
  
"The fruit makes it healthy," he assured her, with the feigned expertise of a seasoned nutritionist.  
  
She snorted and rolls her eyes, but smiled despite herself as she sauntered off to place their order, leaving the two alone again. Peter stretched his arms out on the table, palms up and empty, a clear sign of offering.  
  
"This seems like a nice place. Cozy. You come here a lot?" The plan was to keep the conversation light, mundane even. Anything to keep that flicker of panic from Wade's eyes.

Wade glanced down at Peter’s offered hands, reluctant to take one still, but he placed one hand on the table, his fingers just barely overlapping Peter’s. It was a small comfort but it still gave him something to keep him in the here and now.  
  
Though Wade wanted to take Peter up on his offer for easy and aimless chatter, his curiosity forced a different question to spill out.  
  
“You’re handling the fact that I’m _Deadpool_ really freaking well.” he tilted his head. “Why?”

 _Or,_ Peter thought, _We can talk about this_ .  
  
Despite the fact that half of Peter's time was spent interacting with, reporting on, and actually participating in the hero community, he was sorely lacking when it came to a layman's point of view. Which was just as well, really. He knew he'd have to reveal himself to Wade some time soon (preferably when he wasn't as vulnerable as he was right now), and pretending he was alien to the world of supers meant an added layer of dishonesty Peter wasn't interested in right now.  
  
"The way I see it," he gnawed a little on the inside of his cheek. "Everybody is somebody, right? I mean, not that everybody straps on swords or laser cannons or picks up an Adamantium shield on the weekend. But...  
  
"It's not so much that I found out Wade Wilson is Deadpool as I found out Deadpool is Wade Wilson. The same guy who likes sci-fi movies and makes bad jokes and great lasagna and is, despite everything, more than a little lonely." He went ahead and grapsed Wade's hand in earnest.

Wade listened intently to Peter, impressed by his surprisingly grounded view of superheroes for not being one. A blush began working its way onto his face, and he found himself thankful for the protection his mask afforded. He tightened his grip as Peter did the same.  
  
"Your pal Spider-Man is out there every night stopping crime and the whole city seems split 50/50 on whether they love or hate him.” Peter continued. “Is it so impossible that there's one person out there who thinks Deadpool isn't all that bad? That Wade Wilson is actually a pretty alright guy?"  
  
“Maybe not impossible, but it still feels unreal.” Wade looked at their entwined hands. “Most people give me a bit of a wide berth when I’m in the suit, even the supers.”  
  
Wade knew he’d regret his next words even as he said them, but they needed to be out in the open. Reality was a bitch, but it had to be faced at some point.  
  
“But, honestly, you would have too if I wasn’t paying you.” He gritted his teeth but continued. “You wouldn’t know Wade Wilson if I hadn’t posted that listing. You would have been just another body in the crowd that parted when I came through, in or out of suit.”  
  
His lips snapped shut just as their server stepped over, holding a large tray of filled with their order. He automatically pulled his hand away, to make room for the food or to break the contact after his words, he wasn’t entirely sure.

At least the arrival of their meal gave Peter an excuse not to speak, though he felt guilty for not looking up at their server, unable to tear his eyes away from Wade's masked face. He shoved both his hands down into his lap as his eyes fell down to his plate, the obscene serving now seeming like a bad joke more than the playful gesture he'd meant it to be.  
  
He wouldn't let himself cry, wouldn't give in to the sharp sting threatening the corners of his vision. He didn't even have the right to be offended, because Wade might not be playing fair right now, but he also wasn't lying.  
  
"You're right," Peter managed to eke the words out as the waitress finally left them alone. "That's... that's who I am to you. The person who showed up at your door, broke and desperate enough to do anything to earn a buck. Mentally preparing myself for the very real possibility that I'd have to suck a stranger's dick just to make rent that month."  
  
The whipped cream on his plate was starting to lose its shape as the heat of the food distorted its edges, coaxing the bright red of the berries to sink deeply into what was left of its folds. He glared at it, wondering if he could speed up the process with nothing but the force of his own stare.

Wade knew immediately that he’d fucked up. But that was the story of his life wasn’t it? He watched, helpless as Peter folded in on himself. Part of him wished he could take it all back, undo what he had said, but he had to make sure they were on the same page. Peter had to understand what it was like for someone like him and those around him. It wasn’t easy, and it never would be. Maybe this was for the best. Things had been going way too well between them. The band-aid would have to get ripped off eventually. Better to tackle the matter before he grew any more attached.  
  
Wade brought his hands up and laced them behind his head. He took a deep breath, letting Peter’s words jab at him. He understood being desperate to make ends meet. He had taken his own skills and used them, made choices he would prefer to forget.

"When I saw your face I was... I was _relieved,_ ” Peter sighed. “Because I thought... I don't know, I thought I understood you. What you wanted or... needed from me."

"So yeah, Wade. You paid me. And by the end of that first night I didn't feel great about it, but like I said, I needed the cash. I couldn't give it back to you now if I wanted to because the money you gave me is the only reason I have food in my fridge and heat in my apartment."  
  
He finally dragged his eyes up to Wade's mask, wishing he could rip the damn thing from his face. It wasn't fair that Wade could hide behind its blank expression while forcing Peter to show his hand.

“I don’t need the money back.” Wade’s voice died on the last word as Peter leveled his glare at him. It looked as though he might fling himself across the table and murder Wade, and for a split second genuine fear crossed his mind. He knew that look, he’d seen it a million times. What he wasn’t expecting was suddenly feeling as though all the wind had been punched out of him just from that look alone. His arms came down and he slumped, but never let his eyes move from Peter.  
  
"But you know what, Wade? You didn't pay me to check on your place and see when you made it home. You didn't give me cash to think about you, wonder if you were having a good Christmas. And you _definitely_ didn't show me so much as a dime to stick around last night when you needed me the most."  
  
"Fuck, Wade." The words were barely a whisper, but Peter was shaking with the force of them. "You'll accept my friendship when you're paying for it, but not when I'm trying to give it to you freely? Do you really not think I care about you or..." His head fell, voice trembling. "...Do you not care about me?"  
  
"Because if... if you only see this as some kind of... of transaction... then..." He stopped himself for a moment, taking three full breaths before speaking again.  
  
"Tell me I'm not wrong about us. That that's not all this is. Please."

Wade couldn’t breath as Peter continued on. He should have known that Peter had been there of his own free will. Somewhere along the line, he must have forgotten that Peter hadn’t been called to him in his time of need. _Peter had already been there._ He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table as he buried his face in his hands, knocking a salt or pepper shaker askew but ignoring it. How could he be such a fool?  
  
Wade dragged in a ragged breath and pulled his face from his hand so he could respond. “It’s… it’s not…” He growled in frustration nearly bringing his fist down on the table, fighting off the tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t deserve your friendship. I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

Silence stretched on between them and for a moment it seemed like Peter might simply leave. He certainly considered it, but forced himself to stay where he was. If he left Wade now he might not ever see him again, in or out of the mask. And despite the other man's callous words before, Peter wasn't ready to abandon him just yet.  
  
"That's not really up to you," he said at last, fingernails digging into his jeans beneath the table. "That might be how you see things, and maybe there's no convincing you otherwise. But ultimately the decision is up to me."  
  
He took another breath to steady himself before finally picking up his fork from the table, chopping apart his meal into bite size pieces with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Wade’s gaze went to Peter’s plate as he began attacking his food. He didn’t know how to respond, so instead he settled for staring at his own food, listening  
  
"Look if you want a... a do-over or something? Just want to start over from scratch and pretend nothing before this morning ever happened then... okay. We can do that." Peter reached out slowly, pulling one of Wade's hands down to the table where he covered it with his own. "If you want to forget everything else, the ad, the payment, what we did together... if that would make it easier for you..."  
  
Wade’s breath caught and his chest twisted tight, an all too familiar feeling. He let Peter take his hand. It didn’t help the constriction in his chest, but it kept him focused.  
  
“No.” He whispered, before speaking again with more conviction. “No. I’d rather remember, even with the pain.” He looked over at their hands. “I already have memory issues, pretending something didn’t happen will only make it worse.” A sigh wavered through him as he shook his head. “Whether you were paid for it or not, I don’t want to forget. But maybe we need to rework our foundation.”

Relief was written clear across Peter's face. He half expected Wade to take him up on his offer, which might have made things easier on the mercenary for now but would have surely complicated matters down the line, especially when Peter revealed the truth about his identity. That moment was going to have to come soon, he realized, because he was no longer willing to see Wade along a rocky path of half truths. Wade might have been convinced he didn't deserve care, consideration, or even friendship from another social misfit, but what he did deserve was the truth.  
  
"I think I'd like that," Peter agreed. His hand tightened a little around Wade's, not so much restricting it as keeping it secure. "A chance to move forward. With you."

Wade squeezed back, letting that constricting feeling fade, before finally pulling away.  
  
“Alright, alright, enough serious talk, let’s eat, you have things you need to do today.” He tapped the side of Peter’s plate, glancing up at Peter before turning back to his own food. His hands hovered at the edge of his mask, but he made no move to uncover his face.

Peter wanted to object, but all the talk had done nothing to alleviate the gnawing growing in his stomach and he soon started to dig into his plate. While a little on the lukewarm side, his pancakes and sausages were still everything he'd hoped for, equal parts flavor and nostalgia all drenched in syrup. He looked up, about to ask Wade how he was enjoying his own meal when he realized the other man hadn't even begun. They'd come a long way since last night, but he couldn't blame Wade for feeling uncomfortable exposing himself now.  
  
"You're right, I've got a lot to catch up on. Actually, I have some articles downloaded on my phone I should look over before I get in to the office," he started, pulling the device from his pocket. "You don't mind if I zone out for a bit to get some reading done do you?" Even as he spoke he was already raising the phone near his face, obscuring his view of Wade's mask while he continued to expertly maneuver bits of egg into his mouth.

“Yeah.” Wade lifted the mask to his nose as Peter turned his attention to his phone. “If that’s what you want to do.”

He squinted his eyes, having a pretty good idea what he was trying to do. Even though he was not a fan of his skin right now, he’d come into public to eat anyway if only to spend time with Peter and make sure he ate something half decent. Wade decided he wouldn’t bring attention to it, grateful. He turned to his food and began to eat.

Peter hummed thoughtfully, his thumb scrolling through a few pieces of copy he was supposed to edit for the Bugle. They weren't exactly breaking news, more puff pieces and human interest than anything, but it was a welcome break from the usual doomsday headlines.  
  
It actually made for a more relaxing breakfast than Peter was used to, when he managed to eat anything at all before running off to class or work. Having Wade across the table was a welcome addition, even if the man was much less talkative than usual.

At first, Wade didn’t mind the quiet that fell between them. It wasn’t that big of a deal, companionable silence was a thing. Unfortunately the lack of conversation left the door open to some unpleasant thoughts.  
  
_No, Peter isn’t ignoring us. It isn’t any different from when he was studying his textbook._

But as he glanced up, the phone still obscured Peter’s face; it suddenly felt like a barrier.  
  
_Maybe he is mad at us. We did just have an argument._

_It’s fine._

_Peter just needs time._

_We both need time. To adjust. Think about what happened._ _  
_ _  
_ _Hell, I’d ignore myself too, if I could._

One of his feet began to bounce as Wade’s thoughts grew more chaotic and frenzied. He poked at a piece of pancake, scraping the plate, but didn’t pick it up to eat it. Several seconds passed as he focused his gaze on his food but even that began to blur out of focus as he got lost in his head, chewing on his bottom lip as nerves begin to well up. He thought about breaking the silence for a moment, but with a quick glance decided against it. Peter looked perfectly content reading over his articles for work.

The rhythmic vibrations of Wade's boots on the diner floor thrummed against Peter's sneakers and he gave into the temptation to let his eyes flicker up at him. Wade was sitting still, but it was a tense sort of immobility, like a hunter trying to avoid startling a deer. Wade was being _careful,_ trying to give Peter space, as though one wrong move would upset the tenuous peace they'd laid out, and send Peter packing.  
  
With a soft exhale, Peter crossed one leg over the other, letting his sneaker tap lightly against Wade's knee gently. He hummed to himself, still keeping his eyes on the phone as he looked for just the right thing until... Yes, that would do.  
  
"Apparently, Tony Stark is going to build a new state of the art library in the city. Residents will be able to check out not just books and movies, but tablets, laptops, even 3D printers. Huh. Can't imagine how much trouble I would have gotten into as a kid with one of those." He nodded at his phone, considering. "With all his fancy gizmos it's almost a wonder he's deigning to stock it with actual _paper_ books. I mean I like an e-book as much as the next guy, but there's just something about turning actual pages in your hand. _Especially_ with comic books."

Wade nearly jumped as he felt Peter’s foot tapping against him and slipped a hand under the table and placed it on the shoe to stop it’s tapping. He kept his hand tight around it though as Peter spoke. Even the most casual and incidental form of touch from the other was strangely comforting and before long the contact was working its magic, calming his frayed nerves, quieting the doubts lurking in the murky corners of his mind.  
  
“Where is Stark even going to build a new library? He should repurpose one of the many abandoned buildings in town. Unless he knocked down an old library during a battle and this is his way of making up for it.” Wade took a sip of his coffee, before continuing. “I personally like ebooks and audiobooks, less stuff to travel with, you know.” Finally he built up the courage to look up at Peter. A small smile appeared as he realized he hadn’t ruined things completely.

"Knowing Tony Stark, it's going to be on a hovercraft that just floats above the city 24/7," Peter grinned. "I like ebooks _in theory,"_ he added, "But after you end up paying three hundred dollars for a downloadable PDF about organic chemistry that your professor only made you buy so you could use _one paragraph_ from chapter seven..." he huffed, "you start to get a little bitter."

“Still better than carrying around a thick ass book you have to try and pawn off for less than half the price.” Wade responded, having heard the horror stories of college bookstores. “You shouldn’t let one instance ruin a good thing.”  
  
Despite the complaint, Peter's spirit was light, and he could feel the cloud lifting from their table. By the time the waitress came with their check, his plate was clean, his stomach was full, and the day was looking a lot better.

Wade took the check, digging out his wallet to cover the meal before working on piling the plates together to keep his hands busy. The tension between them might have eased but he still had a bit of residual antsiness.  
  
"I guess I need to head home to change." Peter stretched his arms far above him, twisting his head from side to side to banish any lingering strain in his muscles. He reached out, grabbing Wade's arm lightly, applying only the faintest pressure with his fingertips. "You gonna be alright?"  
  
Wade nodded as he moved to cover Peter’s hand with his own.

“Yeah, I should be good. Definitely better than I could be.”  He reached up and pulled his mask down into place. “Now go be a responsible adult. We can text later to figure out when we have time to hang out again.” With that, he stood, pulling lightly on his jacket, softening its wrinkles.

"Oof." Peter slumped over, letting his arms dangle down near the floor. "I don't mind telling you there are some days I get pretty tired of responsibility." He rolled himself back until his spine straightened out and he was looking at Wade again. A moment passed as he took in the sight, fingers fumbling a little with a pucker of fabric in his borrowed shirt before he finally threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Wade's back.  
  
"I'll be in touch," he mumbled quietly, his lips brushing against the warm leather of Wade's jacket. He gave one final squeeze before letting him go and finally slipping away.

The sudden hug had Wade caught entirely off guard, but he hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around Peter’s shoulders, soaking in what warmth he could before they parted. He stood there for a moment after Peter left, before the server returned handing him his card and snapping him back to the present as he struggled to figure out just what had happened.

He couldn’t fathom what Peter was thinking, couldn’t imagine what would happen when he finally came to his senses.

It’d been a while since Wade had attempted something even close to friendship. Longer still since anyone else had wanted to fight for it.

 

 

And he was fucking terrified.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art can be reblogged from my tumblr [here.](http://343enderspark.tumblr.com/post/183686629938/from-a-scene-in-chapter-3-of-sometimes-when-we)
> 
> Many thanks to this chapter's beta, [TechnicolorVodka!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolorVodka)


	4. Down We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes up his mind to tell Wade the truth about being Spider-Man, but super heroics and a blast from the past get in the way. Well, if at first you don't succeed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to some lofi along side the boys here with [a Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/chillhopmusic/playlist/74sUjcvpGfdOvCHvgzNEDO?si=1MuUf6QUS6usHeSgCbqDxA) or if you prefer, [on Youtube!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEpxZvPjPYc)

##  

 

“No, no. I'm not asking how to get to Bone Town. Just like... How do you... be in a relationship just.. with a normal person? Without guns or demons or sex.”

Wade stood with his back to Spider-Man. They had finished patrol for the night, landing on a roof to eat their after patrol meal before parting ways. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how they got onto the topic, but he needed an outside perspective on everything going on with Peter. It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn’t a bartender or a blind woman who had more than once tried to kick him to the curb when he visited. Still, it was proving to be a tricky conversation since he needed to keep things as vague as possible.

It’d been a few days since he’d last seen Peter. They had kept in touch via text but there were still a few days before they could hang out together again.

He turned back to Spidey who had their bag of food, grasping towards him in a gimme fashion, ready to eat. 

Peter pulled out a burger for himself, the foil bundle so overloaded that it almost didn't fit in one hand. He then turned over the bag and the rest of its contents (another three burgers, a large order of both fries and onion rings) to Wade, who would no doubt polish off everything before he was even half done with his own meal. 

"You're asking me how to be friends with someone?" Peter asked. His raised eyebrows may have been hidden by his mask, but the bemusement was evident in his voice. 

Wade took the bag, digging through it to decide what he wanted to eat first. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of buddies out of the mask, Webs. Probably even a few that know both sides of you.” He looked up a moment, as he pulled out the first of his burgers. “Maybe one day I’ll get to see that handsome mug of yours.” He returned to the bag, debating for a moment before pulling out the onion rings and dropping it back on the ground. 

"I'm guessing you've already tried dragging them to a rooftop to split a bag of fast food after stopping a string of petty crimes?" 

“Nah, that’s more our thing, isn’t it, Spidey?” He lifted his mask so he could eat. “And as much as I love these little rooftop dates, ‘cause I _am_ very fond of you, I’m pretty sure we’re just co-workers, no matter how much I’d kill to be your inamorato.” 

He bit into the burger, instantly overjoyed they went a little out of their normal patrol area to get them. “Love these burgers so much.” He patted the ground next to him. “Sit, relax, I promise I won’t bite...unless you want me to.” He leered playfully at Spidey before biting suggestively into an onion ring(or as suggestively as one can into a soggy piece of fried food). 

Peter glanced at the burger in his hand and out to the skyline for a fraction of a second before taking a few steps towards Wade. After a deep breath he took a seat on the ledge next to Deadpool who was already enjoying his meal. There had been more than enough action for the both of them on the streets tonight, and the adrenaline was still providing a pleasant buzz in Peter's system. 

"It might surprise you to know that running around the city fighting crime most nights doesn't leave you a lot of time for socializing," he explained. "And the people I tend to meet 'on the clock' usually want to clean mine, so to speak." 

Deadpool studied Spidey as he looked out over the cityscape surprised at the lack of reaction over his flirtatious antics. He gave him a skeptical look, even though the other man wouldn’t notice. Finally he shrugged, guessing that Spidey was getting used to his Deadpool ways. 

“You do have quite the gallery of rogues out there.” He finished off his burger and plunged his hand back into the bag. “But you’ve got to be doing something during the day other than sleeping. What about those swanky Avenger soires? Bet you’re invited to all those and they’re full of potential superfriends.” 

"Web slinging doesn't exactly pay the bills," Peter explained through a huge bite of his burger. He thumbed away a glob of ketchup from the corner of his mouth, chewing and swallowing before elaborating. 

"I have a day job, same as most people, and I'm finishing up my degree, which means setting aside time for classes _and_ studying. There's not enough hours in the day for black tie affairs, so this," he plucked at the spandex on his chest, "is the only suit I ever wear." 

“You mean you’re not a playboy philanthropist billionaire under that mask, damn it.” Wade laughed. “Bet you’d look great in a suit though. You should try it sometime.” 

Peter quieted as he took another bite, wondering if he'd said too much. Wade was a loose cannon on the best of days, but he was also a skilled mercenary. Surely he had to be close to figuring out the truth of his identity by now. But while Peter didn't want to be found out, it wasn't for the usual reasons. He _wanted_ Wade to know who he was, he just wanted to be the one to tell him. 

 _Well... no time like the present, right?_  

Wade pulled some fries out before handing the bag over to Spider-Man, but paused as it seemed the other was working through something. He set the bag between them, letting Spidey figure out what he was gonna say next. 

"Actually," Peter began, scratching a little behind one ear. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about." 

“Oh? Well shoot, Spidey, I’m all ears.” Wade grinned turning more towards him, munching on the fries. 

Peter plucked one fry out of the bag, staring hard at it as though the perfect dialogue was written on it in a microscopic script, like the grains of rice with your name that you could buy at the mall. Unfortunately, its surface was covered with nothing but a thin layer of salt which made it delicious, but ultimately unhelpful. 

"First of all, I just want to say that I've really appreciated having you on patrols from time to time. I know that it hasn't been easy for you to stick to my code of conduct, and I know that you've been trying especially hard these last few months.” 

This was something serious if Spidey’s tone was any indication. Wade frowned and sat up straighter, setting the fries aside. A ball of nervous energy formed in the pit of his stomach. Wade felt a blush forming on his face and was very tempted to pull the mask back down. His hand twitched but he kept it on his knee. He didn’t think he had mentioned to Spidey that he’d been trying to do right by him, but it made him thrilled to know that he’d noticed. 

"In that time I'd like to think that we've... well come to _understand_ each other a little bit better over time." Peter jostled himself to face Wade a little better, paying no mind to his burger as it fell from its spot on the ledge down to the pavement below. "Which means I hope _you'll_ understand why I haven't told you any of this before. And why I feel like I can't put it off any longer." 

Wade’s eyes followed the burger as it fell before snapping his eyes back to the web head. His mind began to race with possibilities about what the hell Spidey was talking about. Unfortunately the one thought that kept forcing its way to the forefront of his thoughts was that he was about to get told firmly, solidly, clearly to back the fuck up on the romantic and sexual advances. Any response he could think of kept dying in his throat. He clenched his knees, trying to find some words, but failed miserably. All he could do was sit and stare intently. 

Despite Deadpool's silence and the way he'd all but frozen in place, Peter knew he was listening intently, taking in every last one of his words and gestures as though any one might hold the secrets to the universe. It actually _hurt_ a little, to see Wade so tense, so sure that whatever came out of Peter's mouth next would be damaging, painful. 

The worst part of it was, Peter wasn't sure he was wrong. 

"Deadpool," he started, not willing to drag things out any longer. " _Wade,"_ he sighed. "I'm really-" 

And then the sky exploded.

 

It threw him for a loop, the way the sides of the buildings lit up in a bright and brilliant blue, like a police siren had taken over the city, flickering with such an intensity you'd be forgiven for thinking it was mid afternoon. 

Peter drew himself up, kicking over the paper bag and sending the last of the fries to meet their burger brethren down on the ground. It wasn't hard to pinpoint the source of the light, but it was nearly impossible to look straight at it. 

"Electrical fire." He whispered the words like a curse. "Looks bad." 

Deadpool let out the breath he’d held trapped in his lungs as the air filled with violent and sudden chaos, a curse threatening to escape his lips. Whatever serious shit Spidey had to say was going to have to wait. 

He watched the terrible beauty of the blue light fill the air. “Looks like it’s gonna be all hands on deck.” He glanced over at the other super. “Mind giving me a lift?” 

"Last call for the S-Train," Spider-Man called out, reaching an arm towards Deadpool before swinging the two of them towards the action. 

* * *

Given the option, when it came to rushing in head first without a plan, Peter would choose a regular, garden variety fire over an electrical fire any day. 

Of course, when flames engulfed a house or apartment complex it was no laughing matter. Lives were on the line and mere seconds could mean the difference between life and death. In those cases, he could at least count on firefighters showing up to fight the fire itself while he worried about the rescue, hoses quickly dousing the inferno before it had a chance to spread and do more damage. 

On the other hand, electrical fires were _tricky._ The easiest way to combat them was to prevent them from happening in the first place. They ignited the very air, ripping molecules apart to feed themselves. And while Peter was sure that every person working inside the building he and Deadpool had arrived at had been thoroughly trained in laboratory safety, protocol tended to go out the window in a crisis like this. 

"That's the last one from the fourth floor," Spider-Man heaved, laying out the body of the coughing engineer on an EMT gurney. "I think it's an all clear." 

Deadpool set down the person he was carrying, before swiping at a burn on his side. He had been a little careless, but he was also going after the harder to get civilians so Spidey didn’t become a crispy crawler. 

“No, I gotta go back in. There was one more behind a wall of flames.” He was already jogging backwards towards the building. “Be right back, Spidey-babe.” He gave a salute as he disappeared in the building. 

As he feared, the voice he had heard calling out earlier was silent now. One could only last so long before smoke inhalation got the better of them. He took a running leap at the fire, and burst through the door to the lab. In an instant, he spotted the body splayed on the ground, but still wheezing in air. 

“Alright, upsee daisy.” He hefted the person over his shoulder and glanced back at the door, but heading out that way was no longer an option for the two of them. The room was small and there wasn’t a whole lot of choices, though there was a just big enough window to go through. Lamentably not only was it a permanently sealed window, it also faced away from where Spidey and the firefighters were gathered, so trying for their attention was out of the question. Wade sighed and shrugged. He’d dealt with worse. 

He pulled a weapon out and smashed the window open, looking around, searching for a good way to get down quickly. Unfortunately a telltale clicking behind him made it clear they were both out of time. 

A new explosion shook the building. Wade used his body as a shield when a wave of flame flung the two of them out of the window. With well practiced ease, he turned his body to take the impact of the ground also, feeling the collision for only an instant before everything went dark. 

Wade wasn’t sure how long he had blacked out, but when he came to he could already feel his body stitching broken bones back together. Another minute passed and he was able to stand. It still hurt a lot, but he could handle the pain. Gathering the person to carry to the front of the building took far more effort than Wade had anticipated. With a deep breath and shoving his exhaustion as far back into his mind as he could, he took the still passed out engineer and made his way towards Spider-Man. 

Spidey was in front of him in a second. Deadpool handed over the civilian and placed a hand on his shoulder, his other hand pressing tight against his side. 

“You got this from here, Spidey? I think I need a nap.” Wade wasn’t sure exactly what he looked like right now. It had to be a mess and he didn’t need or want to be around the crowd forming behind the firetrucks and cop cars. He didn’t wait for an answer before he was making his exit, digging out his cracked phone from his belt and calling Dopinder. 

To Peter’s eyes, Deadpool looked less like someone in need of a nap and more like somebody who needed an extended stay in the intensive care unit of a burn ward. But even if Wade didn’t have a well deserved fear and hatred of all things medically professional, there was no time to get him checked out before he was bounding back off into the night. 

That meant two things. 

One: Deadpool was much worse off than he was letting on, and it was bad enough that he wanted to run and hide and lick his wounds out of the sight of prying eyes. 

Two: Peter still hadn't managed to come clean about you-know-who being you-know-what, and he was painfully aware that the more time that passed, the harder it would be for both of them. 

Maybe tonight was a lost cause. Bouts of coughing and wheezing while you hoped you hadn't inhaled more than your daily recommended intake of carbon monoxide tended to put a damper on any serious conversations. But at the very least, Peter could go check on his friend, make sure he was okay. 

With one last nod and unsteady salute to the EMTs and firefighters on the scene, Spider-Man excused himself and began the arduous process of swinging after Wade. 

It took a few minutes of swinging before Peter realized that the lingering smell of overdone barbeque was coming from his suit, and he would best be served by a quick stop at home. While Wade had been pretty severely wounded, Peter knew he'd be of more help to the man if he took care of his own injuries first. 

He'd looked worse, all things said and done, and after diving in and out of the fire, he didn't even mind that his shower was running cold. It gave him a few moments to gain some perspective and re-evaluate his plan. 

Maybe having Spider-Man tell Wade the truth wasn't the best idea. After all, there was no telling how often they'd get interrupted like they had been tonight. And despite how much he needed to get this off his chest, Peter knew he'd always choose his duty over his personal feelings. It had ended more than one relationship in the past. 

That left Peter Parker to explain things. Admittedly that didn't seem nearly as exciting or glamorous, but maybe it was better that way. Maybe Wade would still understand. 

Peter grabbed a backpack and stuffed it hastily with his books, laptop, and a fresh change of clothes. He didn't know how long the conversation would take, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. 

* * *

Wade moved slowly around his apartment. The burns were mostly healed up but his skin remained incredibly sensitive. He held up a fresh suit, both reluctant and eager to put it on. A sweatshirt and pants would have been the more sensible option, but they didn’t offer him the comfort he got from being fully covered in his leathers. He slid it on slowly, hissing as he adjusted, but the discomfort was nothing new. After all, the cancer and scarring meant he was well accustomed to ignoring pain on a daily basis. 

He grabbed the remote to the TV and lay down across the couch on his stomach. His back was currently the source of most of his pain, both from the explosion and his graceless landing. Finally settling on TVLand just as a Golden Girls episode began, Wade let the show wipe his mind of thought and began to doze lightly. 

* * *

"Wade? You here? It's Peter." He pushed the front door open part way, making sure Wade had time to register his presence, or cover up if he wanted. "You uh, you decent?" 

Wade barely registered his door opening, but the sound of Peter’s voice made it through to him. At the moment he was still too exhausted to sit up, but he managed to get an arm waving in the air. 

“‘M on the couch.” he mumbled out before reluctantly pushing himself up enough to look at Peter. “Whatcha doin’ here, Petey-Pie?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer before he plopped back to the couch, hissing softly. Bending his back that way reminded him that his spinal column wasn’t exactly back to one hundred percent just yet. 

"Got word from the Bugle that Spider-Man and Deadpool were at the scene of that fire downtown," Peter explained, not bothering to mention that the text had come thirty minutes _after_ the two of them had already gone their separate ways. "I think Jameson wanted to see if I had any photos he could print. Probably wanted to write a whole exposé about how Spidey is branching out into arson." 

He closed the door behind him, taking in the sight of Wade splayed out on the sofa, folds and creases of his suit illuminated by the television's glow. The leathers looked a lot fresher than the ones he'd left in, but his jilted movements made it clear that all was not well. 

Peter drew a little closer, letting his bag slip from his shoulders to the floor as he crouched near Wade's head. 

"You sound tired," he said, as though he didn't want to collapse in a heap himself. "Still healing?" 

Wade hummed an affirmative, eyes closed, as he raised a hand to reach for Peter. He hesitated, mostly because he wasn’t sure where he wanted to settle it, a residual uncertainty left over from the last time they’d been together. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Peter, concern flooding him as he noticed the bags under his eyes. 

“You been getting enough rest, baby boy?” His hand finally rested on Peter’s cheek, thumb rubbing just over the jutting curve of bone. 

"Just pulling some long shifts at the office," Peter assured him, covering Wade's hand with one of his own. "Nothing I can't handle." 

Reluctantly, he pulled himself to stand, joints protesting at every move. "I'm going to get a glass of water, I'll bring you one too. Bet after the night you've had you must be feeling a little dehydrated." He cracked a tiny smile, but the truth was he rarely saw Wade laid out like this. The man was almost always in motion. Even things like eating and speaking were practically a spectacle where Deadpool was involved. He had to be hurting in a major way. 

Wade’s hand fell as Peter stood. “Yeah, probably not a terrible idea.” 

As Peter went to get the glasses, Wade slowly struggled into a sitting position. Though leaning against the sofa’s back would have felt more natural, he knew sitting on the edge would put less pressure on his injuries. He rubbed at his sleepy face through the mask. His nerves stung only slightly, more in his hands than his face, but they were all firing some sort of pain signal, enough to make his whole body itch. Some lotion would do a lot to help relax him, but that would require effort he didn’t have the energy for at the moment. Instead he just rubbed at the various places that demanded the most attention. 

Peter downed a whole glass of water at the sink, refilling it and a second glass before coming back to the sofa. He was glad to see Wade had righted himself, but there was still plenty of antsy tension running through his friend's body. 

"That doesn't look too comfortable,” he noted as he handed over the glass. "Burns from the fire or... a um... _chronic_ issue?" 

Wade took the glass and attempted to take a drink, only to bump against his mask, still a little out of it. He reached up and slowly lifted the mask, trying to keep the visible grimacing to a minimum in front of Peter. 

“It’s mostly from the fire, but it has kinda set everything else off.” He took a sip from the glass. “The pain will subside eventually. It’s only been, what, an hour, maybe two?” 

Peter shook his head with sympathy, setting his glass down on the coffee table. "And I'm guessing you just threw on that suit as soon as you got home," he scolded, though there was no anger in his tone. 

“You’re already learning me so well, Petey.” Wade smiled softly at him before returning to his water. 

Peter left for Wade's bathroom, scooting a few bottles around on the counter until he found what he was looking for before returning to the living room with his prize. 

"Come with me," he beckoned. "Let’s head to your room and see if I can't help with the worst of it." 

If he hadn’t just finished his water, Wade would have sputtered and choked on it. As it was, his saliva alone almost got him. Peter had found the lotion he used for his scars. 

“You don’t gotta do that, baby boy! I can deal with this later!” He didn’t move from his spot as anxiety flared up. Having Peter’s caring hands on him sounded fucking wonderful, but he didn’t want to subject him to the mess his back had to be right now. 

Peter hadn't expected Wade to come along without a fight, but he’d anticipated more of a jokey brush-off than the twinge of fear he heard in the man’s voice. He crept up to the back of the sofa, leaning over it until his head hovered just above Wade's shoulder. 

"Wade, I thought I made it clear. My being here, my coming to see you, everything I do here I do because I want to. And that includes helping you take care of yourself." He stood straight, gently brushing one hand down the side of Wade's face. 

Wade reached up and took the hand that hovered next to him. “I...I know that.” he took a deep breath. “It’s just...my skin… it’s making me really anxious right now.” 

"We can keep the lights off,” Peter offered. “I'll even load up one of my 'Pure Relaxation' playlists." 

Wade let out a soft chuckle. “I think I’d rather relax to a lofi playlist. I chill better to that than new age, ‘pure relaxation’ stuff.” 

Despite his misgivings, he still stood up, keeping Peter’s hand in his. “Are you sure?” he couldn’t help asking. 

"I'm sure. Plus, you're right. I'm pretty beat but I don't think I'll be able to rest easy if I know you're hurting." He tugged lightly on Wade's hand, leading him towards the bedroom. 

The feelings Wade had been ignoring flared up at his concern, but he promptly shoved it right back down. He wanted this friendship to work and those feelings would only cause him to fuck things up again. Instead he silently followed Peter’s lead. 

The lights were already off, but the street light filtering through the blinds provided more than enough light for Peter to work by. 

"Just have a seat." he whispered. "Get comfortable. Close your eyes and think of something... uh... calming. Beaches? The open road? What the world would be like if the Star Wars prequels hadn't been hot garbage?" He pulled up some music and set his phone to the side, rolling his shoulders and wincing a little at the popping sound that followed. 

At the moment, getting comfortable felt like a bit of a foreign concept to Wade. He knew part of that meant shedding his suit so they could use the lotion, but that conflicted with what his anxiety demanded. 

He chuckled at the ‘calming’ ideas Peter offered up. “I dunno about you, but I subscribe to the theory that Jar Jar was a Sith.” Starting with something small was easier on his nerves, so Wade began by removing his gloves and setting them on the dresser. 

His eyes snapped over to Peter at the sound of muscles popping. “You okay there, Petey? That sounded pretty intense.” 

"Probably just spent too long hunched over the laptop," Peter mused, bringing the lotion over to Wade's bed as he found a seat for himself. "And yeah, Darth Lord Jar Jar is the only thing that makes any sense. Wish they'd had the guts to really go for it." 

The filtered glow from the window was enough to see Wade's form before him, and he could see the man's movements were hesitant and jerky. But at the very least, he had shed his gloves, which was something Peter could work with. 

Slowly, Peter took one of Wade's hands in both of his own. "Try to let your arms hang loose. Let them drop without putting any effort into holding them up." With one hand he pumped some of the lotion into his palm, warming it slightly before spreading it across the back of Wade's hand. His thumbs made slow circles, first coaxing the lotion into Wade's skin bit by bit before he allowed himself to apply any real pressure. He took a little longer to work down the length of each finger, marveling at just how large and strong the man's hands were. Of course, he'd seen first hand just how capable and dangerous they could be. 

Wade’s free hand hesitated over his mask as Peter took his other. He was turned slightly away and his focus was on Wade’s hand, so he used that to help coax himself out of his mask. Unable to completely part with it though, Wade kept it clutched in his hand. 

Focusing on Peter was fairly easy to do, but what wasn’t easy was following instructions. His arm wanted to stay tense. He tried wiggling it a little but that was just making it difficult for Peter. Taking a deep breath in, holding it, and releasing seemed to be the way to go, so Wade repeated that until his arm, and a few of his other muscles, began to relax. 

"How's that? Too much pressure? Not enough?" 

Wade didn’t realize how good it could feel to have someone else massage his hands, and his mind had wandered as he silently enjoyed the attention his fingers were getting when Peter asked a question. 

“Hmm? Oh, you’re fine, the pressure is fine.” 

"Alright. Just let me know if I hit a sensitive spot or something. I don't want to make anything worse." Peter reached out to take Wade's other hand, but found it still clutching the mask. 

His gaze traveled up to Wade's face, now bare but still obscured in the darkness, though a sharp shine still made itself known in his eyes. Even if the scars on Wade's face were an ever moving tapestry, Peter found the keenness of his gaze equal parts familiar and exciting. A faint smile crossed his features for a fraction of a second as he took Wade's other hand, gently setting the mask down across his lap so he could take it up again if he liked. 

Peter resumed his ministrations, humming along with the soft music coming from his phone. There wasn't really much of a melody to follow, but the rhythmic sound of the drum machine and borrowed sound bytes was soothing. 

Wade watched as Peter set aside his mask. It was close if he felt he needed it, a comfort he appreciated. Closing his eyes, he listened to his soft humming. A small smile playing upon his lips. 

"I think I got bitten by the breakfast bug," he said softly, a strange but harmless non sequitur. "Ever since that morning at the diner, I've had a hankering for pancakes. Tried making them a few times at home but haven't found a mix I like yet. What do you use?" 

Wade let out a soft chuckle as Peter mentioned pancakes. “I like to make them from scratch. It’s not quite the same when they come from a premade box mix. I could make you some later if you want.” 

"You would be one of those 'everything from scratch' types," Peter chuffed. "So is my Aunt. When she has time to cook, that is. She's told me more than once that she eats more takeout than she'd like. And then there are those of us who have to slum it with Panburger Partner and PB & J's." 

“Take out is just so much easier. But man, it’s been ages since I’ve had a PB & J. I def need to make some of those. Favorite jam to use? And I’m calling lame if you say grape.” 

Peter’s thumbs played at the wrist of Wade's suit, occasionally slipping beneath the edge and over the covered strip of skin. He pulled at the leather there, looking up at Wade with questioning eyes. 

"Let me?" 

Wade’s eyes shot to where Peter pulled on his suit. A flair of nerves filled his chest but as he looked up at Peter’s soft eyes, he took a breath and simply nodded. 

"Anyways, I may be a broke college student, but I'm a broke college student with _taste."_ Peter worked to keep the conversation light as his hands slowly made their way to Wade's collar, where the zipper of his suit was concealed. "The correct answer is obviously strawberry." 

He tugged lightly at the zipper, sliding it down an inch at a time, exposing a strip of Wade's scarred and dappled skin. When he finally reached Wade's waist, he rose his hands again, shuffling the thick leather off of each shoulder in turn. 

“You should try loganberry when it’s in season.” Wade tried to keep the conversation flowing, but his eyes could only watch Peter’s hands, his own tightened into fists to keep him from pushing Peter away. 

Peter _wanted_ to do this. 

Wade _needed_ to let him do this. 

Besides, his hands were already feeling a million times better than before. 

Wade’s eyes glanced up to see Peter’s expression. All he saw there was concern with a touch of curiosity. He shivered slightly at the cool night air as it hit his sensitive skin. He took over removing the top after Peter pushed the leather off his shoulders, sliding his arms free. 

"Once, when my Uncle Ben was sick, and my aunt had to work, I tried to make him some lunch so he'd feel better. I came upstairs to his room with a sandwich I'd made," Peter eased into the story to help keep Wade's mind from the sudden exposure. 

"I want to say it was... peanut butter, banana, cornflakes and honey. It was probably four or five inches tall?" He measured out a space between his index finger and thumb. "I'm surprised it didn't send Ben into a diabetic coma just from looking at it. He took a bite, though. Said it tasted very 'creative.'" 

“I bet the sandwich was delicious, it certainly sounds like a good dessert.” He smiled softly as he settled back, flat against the mattress, tensing as a hiss escaped him. Right. His back was still _super_ sensitive. 

Peter smiled at the memory as he poured more lotion out onto his hands, rubbing them together once or twice before leaning over Wade’s chest to smooth them out over his bare shoulders. 

Wade studied Peter for a moment, as he began to work the lotion into his shoulders. It looked kind of like an odd angle and he could definitely notice a difference in the pressure of Peter’s hands. His chest tighten as an idea crossed his mind. It was one he’d had no problem doing before when he hadn’t felt the need to restrain his actions. It took a moment of him actually telling himself it would be fine, before he reached out and shifted Peter so he could straddle Wade’s hips. 

“That just seemed like it was uncomfortable, um, leaning in from that angle.” Wade hoped the dim lights could keep the blush on his face from being too apparent. 

Wade had ceased to trigger Peter's spider-sense for ages now, so the young hero was caught quite off guard when he deftly repositioned him above his body. Peter could feel his spine stiffen against his will as he unconsciously tried to avoid bearing down on Wade with his full weight. 

 _Yeah, all hundred and three pounds of it..._  

Despite flummoxing for a moment, Peter reminded himself to keep calm, not wanting his own brief embarrassment to make Wade imagine he found the situation distasteful. 

"Y-yeah. This uh, I can reach a lot more area this way," he nodded, easing himself down as he continued applying lotion to Wade's shoulders and chest. He leveled out his breathing as his fingers worked in slow circles. Despite the frankly horrific level of scarring on Wade's skin, it was also impossible to miss how well defined his body was, especially when Peter was running his hands over every available square inch. 

Wade focused on his breathing as Peter ran his hands over his chest. It felt amazing and he managed to lull himself in a slight doze. His thoughts stilled, what little focus he did have following his fingers as they carefully traced over a scar or the shape of a muscle. 

As Peter reached the dip of Wade's waistline however, he noticed something unusual. 

"What's this?" The pad of his thumb ran over a rough patch, completely unlike the sensitive skin he'd been working on previously. It felt stiff and oddly... synthetic? He ran his hand over the area again, feeling something jagged with his fingertips. Upon closer inspection it seemed like a piece of fabric? Charred and torn beyond recognition, but it might have once been a part of Wade's old costume. 

"Wade..." Peter frowned, leaning to his side to get a better look. "Did you put this suit on the moment you stepped in the door?" 

Wade hummed an acknowledgement as Peter called his name. He cracked open an eye and tilted his head to look at Peter, only just at the edge of awareness. 

“Yeah, same as I always do.” he murmured, not quite following what Peter was getting at. 

A heavy sigh escaped Peter, his shoulders drooping. He'd grown, if not accustomed to, then at least understanding of Wade's typical lack of self-care. Unfortunately for both of them, that meant there could be some unfortunate lingering effects. 

He heaved himself off of Wade and back onto the floor, with no small amount of reluctance. 

"Turn over on your stomach," he instructed softly. "I'll be right back." Peter left for the bathroom a second time, returning a few moments later with several of Wade's smaller washcloths soaked in hot water. 

The loss of Peter’s weight drew Wade back to wakefulness. He frowned as he looked over at Peter, confusion still coloring his hazy thoughts. Shifting at the command, he repositioned himself until he got comfortable again. His arms felt odd at his sides, so he brought them to cross under his chin, stifling a yawn. 

Wade’s brain finally caught up with what was going on, and pushed himself quickly on to his side as he watched Peter return. 

“You don’t have to do that, Petey! The pieces of crap stuck under my skin will work themselves out.” He reached a hand out, placing it on Peter’s wrist. Fear laced his words. He was fighting very hard to not revert to covering back up. Peter had managed to help him move forward again, just like when he’d returned from his trip, and Wade did not want to lose all that progress. 

Peter set the towels down on Wade's nightstand before placing his free hand over where Wade's had gripped him. He could sense the trepidation in Wade's voice, this particular mixture of dismissal and anxiety now familiar to him. 

"It's okay, Wade, honestly. I'd much rather help you now than sit around and pretend like you're doing okay." In truth, Peter felt partially responsible for Wade's condition. It was only because Wade had decided to try and follow Spider-Man down the hero’s path that he'd been caught in the fire at all. Even then, Deadpool had insisted on going into the most dangerous parts of the fray, keeping Spidey at a safer distance from the flames. 

Wade reluctantly let go of his wrist, forcing himself to believe the young man’s words. He could do this. He could trust that Peter wanted to be here helping his friend. 

 _Friend_. Wade didn’t even remember when he last let someone get this close. He didn’t make it easy, and most people gave up after a short time. But for some unfathomable reason, Peter had a stupid amount of patience with him. 

He stroked the back of Wade's head a few times, mumbling nothing in particular before grabbing one of the washcloths and resuming his previous position, this time with one leg on either side of Wade's backside. 

"I'll try to be gentle with you," Peter whispered, a hint of slyness in his voice. 

Wade finally relaxed enough to place his head back atop his arms. He got comfortable as Peter climbed back on top of him. In any other situation he would be spouting endless innuendos, cutting through any tension in the air for a laugh, but found he really didn’t feel like joking around. 

But Peter’s tone made it seem like he had other ideas, and Wade’s nearly closed eyes shot open as his body suddenly tensed up. He had to have misheard right? 

Peter could sense the difference in Wade's muscles immediately. He'd only meant to lighten the mood, but with Wade as vulnerable as he was, maybe he’d gone a step too far. 

"Hey," he whispered, bending over so his mouth was just behind Wade's ear, one hand resting steady on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it, Wade. Stupid joke on my part. I just meant the process might sting a little." 

He pulled back until he was sitting upright again, giving Wade some much needed space. 

"You okay? I don't have to continue if you aren't comfortable." 

Wade did his best to suppress the shiver as Peter’s words fell against his ear. He quickly buried his face in his arms, a small smile hidden there. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” his words were muffled, but held a touch of mirth. “I just didn’t expect it.” 

As Peter sat up, he lifted his head enough to turn and offer Peter his smile. “I’m perfectly comfortable with you where you are.” 

Peter smiled, his shoulders bucking with the faintest hint of a laugh. It wasn't often someone got the better of Wade Wilson when it came to innuendo. He'd have to savor this moment. 

"Alright then, let's get started." 

He took one of the towels, still damp with warm water and started padding it across Wade's back, his brow furrowing as bits of dried blood and blackened flakes of what might have been skin or possibly the remnants of his old suit came away. Occasionally, a more stubborn piece was all but melted into him, and he had to work more cautiously to free it without hurting Wade. 

"Sorry, sorry..." he mumbled, batting the corner of the last clean towel against a particularly messy spot just under Wade's shoulder. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Petey. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you probably imagine.” Wade told him. “I’d say it’s maybe a four out of ten? So not much above my daily level.” 

It was nice, having someone to help deal with the damage on his back. Of course, it was one of the most difficult places to deal with, and Wade often ignored any debris if it wasn’t something he could simply wash off in the shower. Eventually, his body would find a way to shed whatever it was. 

Peter's lips tightened into a firm line as he focused on his task, trying not to think too hard about how Wade had just admitted to suffering in chronic pain every day. If he let his thoughts linger too long on that it wouldn't take much of a logic jump to remembering how all the Avengers treated Deadpool's situation as a joke, often leaving him behind on a mission to pick up the pieces on his own. Sure, Wade could be crude, even annoying at times, but nothing validated that kind of abuse. 

Almost too late, Peter realized he was scrubbing harder than he needed to, the offending piece of char long since dispatched. He froze, before starting again in another spot with the gentleness Wade deserved. 

It was a slow process, but after twenty or thirty minutes, Wade's back was finally clear of anything that wasn't supposed to be there. It was still raw and red, but at least it was all...well, Wade. 

"I think that's the last of it," Peter said with a sigh, reaching for the lotion. He started along Wade's spine, working outwards in slow circles. 

"This okay?" 

Wade had already zoned out, not really asleep, just lost in the touches, when Peter spoke again. He could feel the tenderness of his skin, but it was that refreshed rawness one gets from tackling a good scratch. 

He hummed an affirmative, contentment hard to miss. “Thank you, baby boy.” he whispered out, lacking the energy to speak any louder. 

It was easy to see Wade was being lulled into a half sleep, either from the attention or sheer exhaustion. Peter hoped it was the former, but even he couldn't deny needing some sleep after the night they'd both had. 

Finally finishing, he pulled himself from the bed, collecting all of the towels he'd used before and carrying them to Wade's laundry before returning to the bedroom with his backpack dragging on the floor. 

"I uh... I brought some stuff to sleep in. If you’re okay with me staying the night." 

“Yeah, you can stay.” Wade offered a sleepy smile towards the younger man. 

He rolled over to his side, holding one leg in the air, wiggling it playfully. “Scars are all over my body though, remember?” Wade chuckled as he set up, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. 

Of course Wade wouldn’t make Peter lotion up his legs. It would be far more intimate than he imagined either of them would be comfortable with. But he wouldn’t lie, a small part of him wished he would. 

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. For the first time in a few weeks he was close to being as comfortable as he could be in his own skin, feeling no urge to find his mask and shove it on his face. 

Peter just made a soft "hm" to himself as he dug his sleeping shirt and pants from his bag, simply turning his back to Wade as he shuffled out of his jeans and sweatshirt before getting redressed. He kicked the small pile of belongings out of his way and close to the wall before approaching the bed again. 

Wade found something to focus his gaze upon to give Peter a bit of privacy as he changed into a more comfortable outfit. He rubbed at his face, trying to make the light blush he felt on his cheeks disappear before finally looking back to Peter once he returned to the bed. 

Peter’s eyes met Wade's for just a second before lowering down to his waist. "You still have your pants on." 

Wade tilted his head. “Well yeah, why wouldn’t I?” 

It hadn't even been an hour, but apparently Peter had already made another major social gaffe. He fidgeted for a moment, fingers wrapping in the bottom hem of his loose shirt as he glanced from Wade's pants to the floor and back again. 

"I thought... I mean you said... uh... you know..." He swallowed before trying again. "Legs?" 

Wade had already forgotten his half awake joke, and his eyes widened. “Oh! Th-that was… I didn’t mean you had to....” He felt his face flame anew. “I didn’t think you’d want to.” 

His leather clad legs bounced idly. They would still need lotion added to them before he slept anyway. He warred with himself for a moment, before nodding as he came to a decision. 

Standing up, he moved to his dresser, his blush spreading past his face. Even though the lighting was dim, he could swear that the heat radiating from his blush had to be noticeable. 

“I, uh, went commando tonight, so, yeah.” He said as he opened a drawer, looking for a pair of boxers. 

Wade’s hands hesitated at his waist as he debated if he should change elsewhere, but he decided it would be pointless now. With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he quickly stripped off his pants, and slipped on the red plaid boxers. 

Maybe Peter didn't have the market cornered when it came to bad jokes, after all. But while Wade was usually quick to dismiss a topic after laughing it off, it seemed like he was willing to see this one through. Peter averted his eyes for a second, trying not to think too much about the fact that Wade probably never wore much beneath his suit. (He understood the appeal but had been kicked around too many times not to at least have a cup in his Spidey gear.) 

"We've been over this, Wade. I'm not doing anything here that I don't want to. Just try and remember that... and maybe forget all the unfunny jokes I make instead." 

“I know, I know. And I _am_ trying, I just suck at it.” Wade answered as moved back towards him. 

Wade glanced at Peter, all too aware of the awkward tension filling the air. He opened his mouth a couple of times, trying to think of something to lighten the mood, but nothing clicked. His nerves were getting the better of him and he wondered how he’d had no problem getting close to the young man just a few months ago when they first met. Of course that was supposed to have been a one off thing and he certainly hadn’t meant to become so emotionally exposed over time. 

The two stood awkwardly facing each other, looking like nothing but an awkward pair of virgins on their wedding night... or at least they would if the lights were on. 

"Uh... whydon'tyoutakeaseatonthebed?" Peter blubbered, trying to dismiss the mental picture as best he could. 

The rushed words dragged Wade from his thoughts, and he looked over at Peter, who honestly looked as nervous as he felt. It actually eased something in him. 

“Yes, sir,” he said, smiling wide and trying not to laugh. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned back and sat his hands behind him on the mattress. “How shall ya have me?” Flirting undertone aside, it was still poor choice of words for the situation, but there they were, already out in the ether. 

"I'm thinking over easy?" Peter shook his head, his shoulders immediately sagging with relief. Stupid jokes were simple, familiar. They were practically where he lived. If the two of them could keep it up a little longer they might both make it to bed with their pride intact. "Side of potatoes and sausage links?" 

Wade realized his terrible line seemed to actually ease Peter some, so he couldn’t help but continue. “Oh, I’ve definitely got the sausage covered.” It was perfectly juvenile, a grand Deadpool joke. He chuckled at how corny it all was. 

Peter grabbed the lotion again, trying to figure out the best way to tackle things. Sitting as he was, Wade was actually already giving him pretty easy access to most of what he needed to reach, so Peter decided he should just jump into things before either of them had an opportunity to get embarrassed all over again. 

He crouched on the floor, knees shuffling softly against the carpet as he made his way in front of Wade. Without another word he collected some of the lotion in his palm, taking one of Wade's ankles in his hands and beginning the process all over again. 

Wade’s breath caught as Peter settled between his legs.Trying not to draw attention to himself, he slid his hand over, grabbing a pillow and bringing it to his lap. It seemed a better choice than fighting biology. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the pillow, setting his chin in the palms of his hands as he watched Peter. 

Either the burns hadn't been as severe on Wade's legs, or they'd already done most of their healing by the time Peter began to examine them. They were still covered in the same gnarled bumps, lines and scars as the rest of his body, of course, but the more he studied them, the more they became familiar, just another part of what made Wade... well, Wade. It still bothered Peter that the scarring wasn't as benign as most people's, always consistently irritating if not downright punishing his friend, but he supposed that's why he was here with him now. On the floor. Kneeling. 

Thank god for that pillow. 

He started working his hands from Wade's ankle up to his knee, thumbs and fingers sliding up the man's frankly obscenely defined calves. For Spider-Man, every day was leg day, but radioactive additives to his DNA aside, Peter had still never had the baseline makeup to get bulky. 

"Geez, you're jacked," he mumbled, not paying attention to himself. 

Wade watched Peter’s hands rub the lotion in, and let out a quiet sigh of contentment before laughing as he caught what Peter said. “Gotta stay in shape for the job. Helps that I’m a mutate though.” He flexed his calf under Peter’s fingers, before nudging at Peter’s hands. “You’re not exactly shoddy yourself. You got some muscle hiding under all that nerdiness of yours.” 

"What do you mean _underneath_ my nerdiness? My nerdiness is super buff. I mean people always say the brain is a muscle... Okay technically it's an organ but still the point holds..." Peter’s hands made their way up and behind Wade’s knee and he felt the muscles in his leg flutter and a small chuckle escaped. “Oh?” He couldn’t help saying. 

He put a little more effort into his movements now, hoping to work out whatever kinks were beneath Wade's skin, brushing over that curiously sensitive spot more than once. 

Wade didn’t get a chance to respond before an oddly high pitched giggle escaped him. Immediately, he realized what was happening and he tried to pull his leg away from Peter before he also caught on. Of course all bets were off the moment his hands applied just the right pressure. Wade did his best to keep his leg from kicking up as he fell back into the bed and laughed. 

“Shit! That… that tickles!” Wade managed to get out between gasps, not knowing the last time he’d felt such a sensation. He pushed himself up on his elbows to look at Peter, trying to puzzle out the expression now residing on his face. 

 _Normally_ Peter would never consider taking advantage of someone in a moment of weakness, particularly not after a grueling evening like the one they'd shared. But there was something so unreservedly joyful about Wade's peals of laughter, he couldn't help but want to hear them again. Even his gasps for air had an unexpected playful tinge to them, Wade's shoulders quaking with deep rumbles that warmed something inside Peter he couldn't quite name. 

Wade watched as a glint of mischief bloomed in Peter’s eyes. He lifted an eyebrow ridge, curious at what was about to happen. 

"Oh dear," the young man tutted. "That seems serious. I’d better take a look at it, to make sure nothing's hurt. Was it here?" He ran his palm up against the outside of Wade's calf, a safe spot. "Here?" His thumb pressed against the inside of his thigh. 

Wade’s eyes went to Peter’s hand as he spoke, following them up his leg. He bit his lip, trying to control the grin on his face. He found he was enjoying this mischievous side of Peter and he felt a blush flare up as Peter’s thumb ran over his thigh. 

"Ohhhh, wait. I see. I see. Somewhere riiight in...." His fingers curled around the back of Wade's leg, deft fingertips brushing the sensitive skin on the underside. 

 _"Here."_  

Wade’s slight embarrassment was tossed aside as he fell into a fit of laughter again. Peter had found his weakness and fully intended to exploit it. 

Since Wade wasn't slapping his hands away or telling him to stop, Peter supposed he was enjoying himself and this rare moment of utter goofiness between them. It was stupid. It was silly. But it was also... _fun._ Something Peter imagined the two of them could use a little more of. 

"Still not sure that's it." His free hand ventured to the same spot on Wade's other leg. "Maybe it's moved over here? I've heard that can happen." 

Wade sent a playful glare at Peter as he spoke, watching his hands, still slightly sticky from the lotion, change from one leg to the other. Part of him was curious if he was indeed ticklish there as well and the brief thought of ‘I wonder if I was a ticklish child.’ flitted through Wade’s head before it disappeared just as quickly. Not worth it to think about memories he didn’t have.

It turned out that, yes, he was also ticklish there and Wade wriggled in Peter’s grasp, not really trying to get away, but he couldn’t seem to hold himself still. He brought a hand up to his mouth, stifling the laughter, his other landing on his side where a stitch was beginning to form. 

Wade's momentary lack of control was endearing. Peter couldn't help but watch in amusement as the trained mercenary struggled to sit still though his entire body was practically shaking with the force of his laughter. At this point, Peter couldn't help but laugh himself, the entire display a little too ridiculous even for him to face with a straight face.

His hands continued working their way up until his fingers were brushing against the pillow Wade had grabbed out of some last vestige of modesty, and he paused for just a moment before pushing himself up, finally standing in front of Wade again.

"The research remains inconclusive," he noted, his hands finding their way to Wade's shoulders, where his thumbs kneaded small circles. "I suppose I'll have to resume work later for more detailed findings." 

Wade breathed heavy, sucking air into his lungs, and sat up as Peter stood. A hand came up and covered Peter’s hand on his shoulder. Wade wasn’t ready to leave this happy place his mind didn’t get to venture often, especially as of late.  
  
“ _Your_ research may be inconclusive, but _mine_ is just getting started.”  
  
He shifted, his arms grabbing Peter’s waist as he pulled him to sit on the bed.  
  
“I think I’ll start with known areas of interest.”  
  
Keeping his hands near Peter’s waist, he began to attack his sides, just shy of being overwhelming. A grin spread as he watched Peter’s reaction. 

Peter's eyes widened as Wade shuffled him effortlessly onto the bed, but there was no flare of danger, no sense of alarm. Not for the first time, Peter realized he didn't mind at all when Wade took control of the situation; something as simple as trust - hard won, but sorely missed.  
  
He didn't have much time to think about it though, since Wade somehow managed to zero in on the exact spots that made Peter squirm. He couldn't stop his arms from flailing, body from twisting and curling into the sheets, still warm from where Wade had rested just moments ago.  
  
What would Doctor Octopus or any of his other nemeses say if they saw Spider-Man in such a compromising position? Heck, what would Iron Man or Captain America say if they knew he was goofing off with Deadpool like this?  
  
And did Peter even care?  
  
"Okay! Okay!" He heaved in between breaths. "I give!" 

Wade puffed out his cheeks in faux annoyance as he stopped tickling the younger man beneath him. He didn’t want to stop, but overstimulation could turn a fun game sour in no time.  
  
Instead he met Peter’s eyes, still twinkling with mirth and nearly shed tears, and his breath vanished. That unnamed thing he’d been shoving down in his chest burst forward, full force, though not nearly as bloody for him as it had been for John Hurt.  
  
For a second he took stock of their positions. He propped himself up on his elbows, realizing how close they were. One knee, on the edge of the bed between Peter’s legs, had supported him as he carried out a tickle attack while the other remained planted on the floor. He shouldn’t be surprised, they’d been in compromising positions all night.  
  
But now Wade realized this moment in time was different. It scared him but it didn’t stop him from leaning down and pressing Peter’s smile against his own. It was soft and sweet, and he couldn’t stop the giggle that rested right behind his lips. He seemed to keep finding himself in silly situations with Peter and he really loved it. 

In Peter's mind the silent stretches between them seemed to drag on for ages, but he scarcely had time to draw a breath before Wade was kissing him. It bore none of the immediacy and need as their earlier fumblings, neither of them desperate to glean as much comfort and contact from the moment as possible, unsure of when they'd have the chance again.  
  
Instead the kiss was slow, light, yet lingering. Peter would almost call it "friendly" if the term didn't bely the potential behind it. It wasn't a kiss that screamed "I need you!" or even "I want you!". Instead the only message he heard as Wade pressed their lips together was that of warmth, and happiness, and "I'm glad you're here." 

Wade dropped his weight slowly onto Peter, as he shifted his arms, bringing one up so he could run it though Peter’s hair. He deepened the kiss, tongue snaking out slowly, asking admittance. He found himself trying to convey his thanks through the kiss, show Peter what he couldn’t express enough with words.  
  
His other hand found the hem of Peter’s shirt and slid under, teasing the nearly smooth skin, trying to elicit another sweet laugh without breaking the kiss. 

A pleased hum escaped Peter as Wade's hand passed over his chest and stomach, somehow warming the already flushed skin there. As the kiss became more intense, he found himself leaning up into it, craving more contact as each second passed. Something about this night - the shared trauma of the fire, the delicate moments of healing and connection - it made Peter realize there was more between them than perhaps he'd recognized before. There was even a chance that the two of them could-  
  
His eyes snapped open, breath hitching as a brief tremor passed through him.  
  
There was nothing. The two of them could _be_ nothing. At least not until Peter explained the truth.  
  
"Wade..." he gasped, pulling back as he tried to regain his senses. "Wade, we... we can't... I can't..." 

Reality came crashing over Wade, a sudden rain in the dead of winter.  
  
Right. They were just friends. He couldn’t take what wasn’t his. With his head against Peter’s shoulder, Wade struggled to hide his face as he warred with his emotions. Stifling the worst of them, he shifted to a more usual flippant demeanor. His hand on Peter’s stomach patted him before Wade sat up, settling beside him on the bed.  
  
“Sorry, sorry, got a little carried away.” He placed his hands on his chest, his fingers tapping erratically to do something with the nervous energy running rampant. “I gotta remember, no _romantics_ .” The word came out a little snarkier than he meant it. “New foundation and what not.”  
  
Nearly throwing himself off the bed to move to his dresser, Wade dug for a t-shirt to sleep in. He found a purple one and slipped it on, before returning to the bed, opposite side of Peter.  
  
“Bed time!” he said, forcing enthusiasm through a tightly clenched smile. 

Peter scarcely had time to get another word out, and no chance at all to explain himself before Wade was already knee deep in another whirlwind bout of defensive bravado and compartmentalization. He wanted more than anything to explain that it wasn't the act of intimacy itself that he was objecting to (in fact there were certain parts of Peter's anatomy that were responding quite eagerly to the attention) but that he needed to come clean about other aspects of his life and their shared history. Peter had made the mistake of keeping important people in his life at arm's length, and it always led to an unfortunate sort of strained half life with them, a mistake he didn't want to repeat with Wade.  
  
But there was no time to explain now, the moment already gone, Wade obviously uncomfortable spending any more time on the topic and clearly wanting them to carry on as though nothing had happened at all. In a flash the two were in bed, side by side, without a single point of contact between them, like two brothers on a family vacation.  
  
Peter sighed. This wasn't how he'd wanted the night to go, but it wasn't the first time his plans had gone astray.

Wade stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts running faster than he could process. He was going to have to actually sit down and reflect, which he hated, but he had to figure out his own feelings before they wrecked this budding friendship. It was always better to nip his feelings in the bud before they became to much to bear.

Peter turned to his side, curling slightly before reaching out with one hand, letting it rest lightly on Wade's chest, just enough that it could be noticed, but easily pushed away if he was going too far.  
  
"Good night, Wade," he whispered, cursing himself for being unable to get out a single word of what he really wanted to say. "Sleep well."

Wade looked down at the hand resting on his chest. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to react, but he reminded himself that friends could still touch. Peter would not deny him the one thing that had brought them together.  
  
Slowly, he lifted a hand and placed it over the slightly smaller one, gripping it firmly, but loose enough that Peter could pull away if he liked. It was an instant reminder, as all the thoughts and voices in his head calmed, that everything would be fine, no matter what. As long as he had Peter, even as a friend, he would be fine.  
  
“Good night, Peter.” 

* * *

Wade clapped his gloveless hands together, ready to dig into the food the server had just finished placing in front of him and Peter.  
  
He’d manage to leave the house, not in his suit, but in jeans and a hoodie, leaving  his gloves and mask at home. It hadn’t been easy, but he was slowly feeling better about his skin again. He picked up his orange juice and held it up to Peter.  
  
“Ain’t got anything to cheer, just wanna clink glasses,” he said, a smile not quite hidden in the shadow of his pulled up hood. 

"I don't know about that," Peter answered, tipping his head just a bit as he knocked the rims of their glasses together. "We've got good food, good company. It's more than a lot of people have."  
  
Until recently, that number included Peter as well.  
  
He tilted his head just enough to see the trace of the smile crossing Wade's features, nodding and taking a drink at last when he felt assured it was genuine. Last night had been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, but the morning had started out alright, the two of them getting ready to start their day without mentioning any of the awkwardness that had beset them before bed.  
  
It was all just a misunderstanding anyway, one that Peter had the power to clear up. And now that they were out in public, in neutral territory, (and with soon to be full stomachs, something that always put Wade in a better mood) Peter thought he might finally have a chance to set the record straight.  
  
"There's... something I've been meaning to talk to you about." 

Wade looked up as Peter broke the comfortable silence they’d fallen into, head tilting slightly to one side. "Whatchagot?" He asked, shoveling a slightly too large piece of ham in his mouth. 

"Well..." 

Leave it to Wade to want to jump right into things. Then again, as far as he knew, Peter only wanted to talk to him about his upcoming schedule, or how he was thinking about cutting gluten out of his diet. (Unlikely. He loved pizza way too much.) He had no idea that Peter had been thinking about revealing his biggest secret to him so that they could...  
  
Well, he wasn't sure exactly _what_ they would do after this. He just hoped that Wade would appreciate his desire to be honest.  
  
"It's... it's about my life. Um... you know... outside of, uh... this." 

Setting down the bite he was about to take, Wade turned his full attention to Peter. He realized he knew little about him outside of their growing friendship. For a split second, he thought on what he did know.  
  
There was university, the boy had brought over his homework before. And he knew about Peter’s aunt, though not how often he saw her. That he had a few odd jobs to help with the bills, though he wasn’t quite sure what most of them were.  
  
Peter was a pretty likable guy. He had to have friends he saw on the regular. Maybe he wanted to introduce them to him some time. Wade frowned; he was not ready to be sociable with new people. He waved the thought off, having already let his mind wander far enough. Right now, he needed to get back to listening to Peter, in case he missed anything important. 

 _Wow_ . So this was what it was like to have Deadpool's undivided attention. Face to face, eye to eye, no masks between them. Peter wasn't sure if he was up for this level of scrutiny on the best of days, let alone after a rough night, even if there were pancakes and bacon to smooth things over.  
  
"Right well... you know how my schedule is kind of...erratic? I mean, you know about my coursework and work for the Bugle and stuff. But there's some nights when I can't stop by and there's a good reason for it. At least, I hope you'll think it's a good one."

Peter took a deep breath, and forced himself to stop fiddling with his silverware so he could focus and meet Wade's intense gaze. 

"The truth is, I'm actually-"  
  
"Peter? Is that you?"

A gorgeous, tall redhead caught their attention, waving with a huge smile on her face. Wade would be lying if he said he wasn't blown away. He had to stop gaping before he looked over to Peter for answers.  
  
"Peter!" She exclaimed once more as she used her hips to scooch Peter over in his seat. "I didn't hear from you after I saw the -" she paused a moment, glancing over at Wade, before returning her attention to Peter. "-the last text you sent. It said you were near that electrical fire last night."  
  
Wade tilted his head, confused. He didn't remember Peter mentioning that last night. Then again, when he showed up, Wade _had_ been a little out of it.  
  
"Glad to see you're okay." She grabbed his face, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You should've texted after to let me know you were fine."

"Uh... yeah. I... I should have," Peter managed, already trying to figure out how to get Mary Jane to leave without having her end up more annoyed with him than she already was. "I was just... busy."  
  
He hoped there weren't any follow up questions. He wasn't prepared to explain just what he'd been doing all night (and with whom) to her. Especially not when the man in question was sitting not two feet away, staring at the both of them like they'd each sprouted an extra head.  
  
"Uh, sorry, sorry. I'm being rude. MJ, this is Wade." He quickly gestured at the man, nearly spilling orange juice across the table before managing to catch the glass just as it tipped.  
  
"Wade, this is MJ. She's a... uh... a friend."  
  
"That's one way of putting it," she grinned, her nose crinkling. She plucked a piece of crispy bacon off of Peter's plate even as she offered her free hand to Wade. "Nice to meet you, Wade. Of course Peter's told me absolutely nothing about you. But then, that's Peter, right?" 

Wade looked back and forth between MJ and Peter, lifting an eyebrow ridge. He hesitated before reaching out and shaking her hand. "Pleasure’s all mine. And yeah, he and I are still learning each other."  
  
MJ glanced down at their hands briefly, then turned her attention back to Wade, her expression unfaltering. That at least earned her some quick points in his book. As they separated, she slung her arm around Peters’ shoulders.  
  
"So, Peter, dear. Why have you been keeping this fellow hidden from me? You know I can’t stand secrets." She kept her grin, but the pissed off glimmer in the look she gave Peter almost made _Wade_ want to duck for cover.  
  
"I like her, Peter." Wade said, a small smile spreading across his face. "Can I buy you breakfast, MJ?" He asked as he watched her snag a piece of toast. 

"Mmm, I'd love to but I can't stay," she shook her head, already loading up her stolen toast with chunks of eggs and bacon off of Peter's plate. "Just came in to grab a quick cup of coffee when I saw Peter somehow up and about before noon. I had to make sure it wasn't an alien clone or something."  
  
Peter rolled his eyes, trying not to make his displeasure too obvious when she swiped a gulp of juice from his glass.  
  
"Gotta get that vitamin C. Wouldn't want to catch a bug, right Pete?" She pulled herself out of the booth, hijacked hodge-podge breakfast wrapped loosely in a napkin. "We still on for tonight? I'm never gonna make it through Calculus without the help of your little nerd brain."  
  
"Uh, yeah, yeah," Peter nodded. He'd completely forgotten about their study session. "I'll be there."  
  
"Sweet. It's a date." She reached out and ruffled his hair, leaving it in no worse shape than it had been when he sat down. "Wade, great to meet you. Thanks for making sure this guy eats more than Pop-Tarts once in a while."  
  
"Hey, I eat shredded wheat sometimes!"  
  
"Yeah, the kind with strawberry frosting! I've seen your pantry!" She laughed, blowing him a swift kiss before heading out the diner's doors. “Seeya, Tiger.”  
  
"Uh," Peter stared blankly at the empty space MJ had left beside him. "I'm... uh sorry about that. Honestly, this is the last place I was expecting to run into her." He offered Wade a weak smile. "MJ can be... kind of a lot." 

Wade stared ahead, his focus not on Peter but instead on the single word 'date' as it hung in the air. It caused his mind to replay the interaction with MJ from the beginning. A kiss on the cheek, invasion of personal space, bites of food stolen without asking. All signs pointed to _girlfriend_ . It didn't help that Peter had been uncertain about what to call her.  
  
"Oh." His focus zeroed back in on Peter. "Is that what you were gonna tell me?" Wade did what he was good at once again, a broad smile painted across his face. "You're seeing someone, and that someone is MJ. Is that how you spend your evenings when I'm not annoying you? Gotta get those study _dates_ to fit somehow into your hectic schedule."  
  
He picked up his fork and returned to his food, shoveling it in, even though his appetite had suddenly disappeared. "She seems like a good catch." He managed between bites. 

Peter opened his mouth to protest but the words stuck in his throat. Wade was being awfully nonchalant about the idea of Peter and MJ dating, even if it wasn't the truth. He'd expected... or he'd _hoped_ that Wade might be the tiniest bit upset at the prospect, if only to serve as proof that Peter wasn't the only one feeling... well... _feelings._  
  
But if Wade was going to wave the whole thing off as though he'd simply met the guy who handled Peter's dry cleaning (as if he could ever afford to pay someone else to do his laundry) then maybe Peter was wrong. Wade certainly _liked_ him as a person. Maybe even as a friend. But it looked like that was as far as it went. And if Peter had been wrong about all of that... then maybe he was wrong about everything else. Maybe this wasn't the time to open up about himself after all.  
  
"Yeah she's... she's great," he mumbled, poking at what was left of his breakfast. 

Despite trying to play off how much Peter dating someone else bothered him, Wade’s anxiousness made itself known through his fidgeting leg. He didn’t even register it as he started in on his pancakes.  
  
“You gonna sweep her off her feet in a couple weeks?” he found himself asking. He shouldn’t be so curious, but friends shared this kinda stuff, right? “Valentine's Day is coming up after all.” 

While Wade's tone might have been steady as a rock, the faint vibrations under the table were anything but. It was the same kind of telltale nervous energy Peter had witnessed in the past, but he was struggling to put a reason to it.  
  
The tines of his fork swirled slowly through a pool of syrup that had dribbled off his pancakes and onto the plate below, leaving a quickly disappearing trail that resembled something that might generously be called a heart. Sometimes it was a struggle to keep up with Wade's line of thought, and even now Peter was having trouble shifting gears. MJ? Romantic evenings? It wasn't exactly what he'd set out to talk about this morning.  
  
"I uh, hadn't really given it much thought." At least that much was the truth. "I'm sort of terrible at that sort of thing anyway. I can never figure out what other people want." 

“I dunno, I think just being with the person your like is a good gift. No need to overthink about some object.” Wade replied, but in reality he knew he could be just as bad. Sometimes it seemed easier to buy a thing because he couldn’t always be where he needed to be.  
  
Peter took a slow sip of coffee, wondering if there was any way to steer the topic back to more comfortable, or at least more _honest_ territory.  
  
"What about you, Wade?"  
  
“Hmm? Me? I got some big plans for that day.” Wade smiled, thoughtfully. “I do still have to finish working out the details, but I know I want to hit up the new Italian gelato place.”  
  
Wade started stacking up the plates he had finished and set the last one in front of him, a generous serving of bacon and ham. 

Peter's eyebrow twitched but he managed to school his expression into something more agreeable while Wade was distracted with the plates. Wade didn’t talk much about his personal life, but if he had someone special to spend Valentine's Day with, why was he scouring the internet for scraps of company?  
  
Granted, if it had just been the Spider-Man fantasy, maybe Wade's theoretical date wouldn't have filled out the suit in just the right way... but no. Wade had made it clear how much he needed basic human contact from that very first night. He was just trying to cover up the fact he had no plans at all.  
  
Well... not _ye_ t anyway. If Wade was just lying to try and save face, maybe Peter hadn't lost his chance after all.  
  
"Gelato, huh? Sounds delicious." He leaned back in his seat, ideas already forming in his head. "You'll have to save me some." 

Wade studied Peter for a second, trying to gauge if his words were laced with sarcasm or disbelief. Maybe Wade was wrong, but something about Peter’s sudden change in demeanor seemed off.  
  
Wade shrugged. “I could take you there some time. They’ve got so many different varieties plus some special flavors depending on the day of the week. Sometimes they’re superhero or villain themed.” He snacked on the bacon for a moment before continuing. “They have a mango/cherry mix for Iron Man, a pumpkin lime one for the green goblin, which b-t-dubs tastes much better than you’d expect. Of course I think my favorite so far is the blueberry/strawberry Spider-Man themed one.”  
  
Wade finished off the ham, setting the plate aside. “You have a favorite?” 

"Blueberry and strawberry sounds like a good combo," Peter nodded in approval. "If it's the kind of place that uses real fruit, I'm sure even Spidey would approve. Gotta set a good example for the kids, right? Get those vitamins."  
  
"Is there a Deadpool flavor?" He mused, imagining that if there was, Wade would have lost no time at all in bragging about it. "Let me think... cherry and chocolate? Because of the suit? Or raspberry chocolate chip? Maybe something more unexpected like chili mango with fruity pebbles?" He laughed a little to himself, having more fun than was probably justified in trying to pin his friend with a dessert combination. It was a stupid topic of conversation, but it was also safe. And now that he resolved to wait until Valentine's Day to bring up the whole "Spider-Man thing", Peter decided that stupid and safe suited him just fine.

“If they have a flavor idea, I haven’t seen it yet.” Wade shrugged. He really didn’t expect the place to ever create one for him when there were a ton of more interesting and cherished heroes and villains to choose from. “I’m gonna have to learn how to make gelato to make that fruity pebbles one myself.” He laughed.  
  
Wade stretched, trying to think what he could talk about next. Two people could only talk about frozen desserts for so long. But after a glance at the table and their clean plates, it occurred to him that maybe they should leave. He didn’t want to, especially since they’d have to go their separate ways and he wasn’t sure when he’d see Peter next.  
  
“Hey,” He began uncertain, but wanting to voice it again anyway. “Thanks a lot again for last night. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.”

"Oh!" Peter blinked rapidly, still trying to keep up with the whirlwind of topics. He hadn't expected Wade to come back to their night together, but he supposed it was better than either of them pretending it hadn't happened. "Of... of course. An...any time."  
  
The weirdest thing was, Peter really meant it. Admittedly he wasn't Mr. Reliable when it came to being in the right place at the right time, (Spidey business excluded) but he realized that he genuinely _did_ want to be there to help Wade whenever he needed him most.  
  
"I'd like it if you... if you thought of me as someone you can count on," Peter admitted.

Wade’s smile turned soft at his words. “I think I’m getting there.” He confessed. Trusting other people was not his forte.  
  
With a touch of reluctance, he finally stood up. “As nice as it is to chat with you, I’m sure you must have school or work to tend to. I can’t keep you.”  
  
He held out a hand without thinking, offering Peter help out of his booth. 

Peter accepted Wade's hand, a little surprised at the sudden ending to their meal (which was foolish, the plates were empty, glasses drained, it wasn't as though either of them could spend the day just chattering over refills of coffee, no matter how appealing that sounded).  
  
"Yeah, I have my work cut out for me the next few weeks. New year always brings a heap of human interest stories at the Bugle, and the start of a fresh semester means I'm going to be busy with..." a brief image of red hair flashed in his mind, "...tutoring."  
  
He gave Wade a quick, but tight hug, forcing himself not to linger and "make things weird".

“Busy bee.” Wade couldn’t help but tease. He kept the disappointment of just how quick the hug was off his face. 

"Just remember, you need me, you call. Okay?"  Peter informed him.    

“Friendship is a two way street, if you need anything yourself, you can call me too.” Wade said, placing a hand on Peter’s head and ruffling his hair. 

Peter offered him a final wave before starting to head off, one last 'telephone' mime over his shoulder before making it out the door.

Wade waved back as he watched Peter go, but once he was out of sight, he dropped his false cheer and rubbed at his face. Time to go squash those feelings he had before they became an issue...if it wasn’t too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Vod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolorVodka/) for beta reading this chapter.
> 
> Stunning artwork was provided by [Lizardyne!](https://lizardyne.tumblr.com/) Please go check out their exceptional (often Spideypool) art!


	5. Funny Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day and Peter finally has a plan to show Wade how much he's come to mean to him, and finally reveal the secret he's been keeping all this time. Dinner, dessert, and even a little dancing... it all sounds like a pretty romantic night for two. Or is it three?

  


 

Peter gripped the straps of his backpack, fingers tightening and loosening with every heaving breath he took. There was really no reason for him to feel as nervous as he did. After all, he was _Spider-Man._ He tousled with megalomaniacal baddies on the regular, jumped off rooftops on his way to class, hell, he'd once asked J. Jonah Jameson for a _raise._ This was _nothing._  
  
At least that was what he kept telling himself, words looping around in his head like a mantra. He hadn't seen Wade for a few weeks now, their schedules never lining up just right, meaning the two had to rely on text messages to keep in touch. It was better than nothing, and the sheer number of photos of taco trucks and Iron Man memes Peter received assured him that he wasn't in danger of being ghosted by the mercenary any time soon. Still, it wasn't the kind of one-on-one face time he was after.  
  
Which brought him to his plan. Well, "plan" might have been a bit of an exaggeration. He'd simply decided to show up at Wade's place on Valentine's Day (though he had promised himself he wouldn't draw any attention to the nonexistent "plans" he’d supposedly be interrupting) for some hang out time, and finally, _finally_ come clean about his secret identity.  
  
It was totally fail proof, and he knew without a doubt Wade would be happy to see him.  
  
So why was it suddenly so hard to knock on the door?  
  
"Come on, Peter," he mumbled at himself, before shaking the stiffness out of his shoulders and neck. "Come on, Spider-Man."  
  
With one final breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

“Just a second, ple-...Pete?” Wade’s expression morphed to one of surprise followed immediately by confusion as he opened the door. Peter was supposed to be out with MJ. Right? “What are you doing here?” 

The moment Peter saw Wade's face, he felt an instant wave of relief. Just seeing his friend in the flesh quieted a lot of the nagging worries that had plagued him ever since he decided to show up today. This was Wade. His friend. There was no reason for Peter to feel uneasy. It wasn't as though Wade had once given him the impression he'd ever be anything less than ecstatic to spend time with him.  
  
That heady feeling certainty faltered, however as Peter's gaze traveled a few inches down and he took in Wade's clothing. He'd never known the man to wear anything besides comfortable t-shirts and hoodies outside of his Deadpool suit. But right now he looked, well... polished. Like someone going to the theater or a nice restaurant.  
  
_So like... on a date._  

His eyes darted to the thin sliver of the living room that was visible past the man's broad shoulders. It was cleaner than usual, and yeah... that was definitely a _pair_ of champagne flutes on the coffee table.  
  
Peter had assumed Wade was just trying to save face when he mentioned his Valentine's plans. After all, in the time they'd known each other (even when they were both still behind their masks) he'd never brought up a serious significant other, at least not a current one. But it seemed like the plans he'd talked up weren’t just a work of fiction, and Peter had clumsily stumbled onto what was supposed to be a special night for the two lovers.  
  
"I..." he struggled to get out another word, mind reeling.  
  
What _had_ he thought, exactly? That Wade would be glad to see him no matter what? That the man had no other prospects? That his life was as pathetically empty as his own? After all, just because Wade had called on his services all those weeks ago, it didn't mean Peter knew the full story. Wade had proven to be extremely tactile and clingy, given the opportunity. Maybe he was in a long distance relationship and just needed a little help bridging the gap between visits with his actual, very much real girlfriend. Why shouldn't he call for someone to provide a little companionship? A substitute. A stand-in.  
  
...A placeholder.  
  
After all, Wade had only ever asked for basic things. Someone to watch movies with, share some dinner. It was Peter who had pushed for more, had insisted on staying even when Wade told him to leave.  
  
He was beginning to become horribly accustomed to feeling unwelcome.  
  
"Sorry... I... I thought..." 

Wade wasn’t quite sure what was going through Peter’s mind right then, but he looked downright lost. Something in his chest twisted, and it dawned on him just how his last question had sounded. For all he knew, MJ had broken up with him and he needed a shoulder to cry on. It would certainly explain his look at the moment.  
  
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Peter.” He stepped to the side, keeping his voice soft. “You’re always welcome here. Come on in.”  
  
Before Wade could close the door, he caught sight of the pizza guy in the hall. Gently, he pushed Peter inside when he didn’t make a move to enter, suspecting the other man would try and resist. He greeted the delivery guy and paid for the food. 

“You know I offered to make her a full blown four course meal, but she insisted on pies from her favorite pizzeria.” 

“Eddie’s,” Peter read off the box with little inflection. “Good choice.” So it was a date he’d barged his way into. And Wade, bless him, was being as sweet as ever, trying not to make Peter feel awkward for trying to elbow his way into things. 

All of a sudden a blur of satin and sequins came barreling towards them both as a young girl ran down the hallway from the bathroom, shaking her still wet hands at the person in front of her. Minuscule droplets of water splashed onto Peter’s shirt and face before she realized what had happened. She gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth, but wasn’t able to stop the giggle spilling from her.  
  
“Ellie!” Wade scolded, though the note of mirth kept it from being taken too serious.  
  
“Sorry!” she squealed out, as Wade stepped past Peter, scooping her up with his free hand and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Dad! Put me down!” Ellie laughed as she wiggled in Wade’s grasp.  
  
“Alright, Alright!” He flipped her over carefully, and guided her fall into the couch cushions where she continued to bounce long after he’d released her. 

“Did you grab the glasses for the cider?”  
  
“Yes, Ellie. Only the finest Chinet for my girl.”  
  
“You don’t have any fancy glass ones?” She pouted as she looked at the plastic flutes on the table.  
  
“Sorry, pumpkin.” He patted her head, setting the pizzas on the coffee table. “‘Fraid this is as fancy as I can make lunch.”  
  
“It’s okay,” she grinned at him as she placed the flutes, grabbing the sparkling cider and pouring it. “At least you dressed up for a change.”  
  
“Anything for you.” 

“You hungry, Peter?” Wade asked before heading to the couch and crouching down to Ellie’s eye level. “Hey, Ellie, you okay with Peter eating with us?”  
  
She looked past her dad and eyed the other man, studying him for a moment. “Only if he dresses up too.”  
  
Wade smiled as he glanced back at Peter. “You up to that, Peter?”  
  
Peter realized how woefully under-dressed he was compared to Wade and his daughter. (A daughter! As though that didn’t raise a hundred more questions!) Wade sported a red vest over a black long sleeved button up and a cute (if slightly tacky) black and red heart tie, paired with some well fitted jeans. Ellie, for her part, sported a simple sleeveless black dress with silver beading on the collar, curly hair back in a silver headband. 

Wade stood as he made his way to the kitchen to get another plate and plastic flute. “I should have a white button up in my closet. El, think you can show him?”  
  
“Yup!” Ellie jumped up off the couch, straightening her headband and ran over, grabbing Peter’s hand as she tugged him towards Wade’s room. “I think you need a blue tie!" 

In a matter of moments, Peter had been shoved into the apartment, splashed with water, vaguely yelled at and questioned without a chance to respond. It was almost a relief to be in the relative quiet of Wade's bedroom, even if he was still trying to figure out what he was doing there.  
  
He took a second to look down at the young girl still hanging from his arm, grinning up at him with the luxury of someone who had no questions about anything in their life at all. She was cute... in the way that most kids were, unless they were utter booger eaters (Peter had known a few in his youth) but he still had no idea who she was or why she was here. Still, she seemed more keen on getting Peter dressed to her standards than answering any of his questions.  
  
"Uh... tie. Yeah. Has he got one?" He rifled through the few hangers in Wade's closet, wondering if he should make an effort to hide the Deadpool suits there, or if Wade's identity really was known to everyone at this point. The dress shirt he found was going to be far too large on him, but he supposed if he tucked it in and rolled up the sleeves it might be passable.  
  
"Mmm... yep!" Ellie pulled a satisfactory tie from Wade's top drawer, which while blue, was also covered in sharks of every variety. "This one's good," she nodded, handing it over.  
  
Peter took both articles of clothing in his hand, snagging a belt for himself as well.  
  
"Okay... I'll just..." he looked around the room, wondering if it was indecent to change his shirt in front of a grade schooler. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom to get ready."  
  
Ready for _what_ he had no idea.  
  
"Okay, just don't take too long, or I can't promise he won't eat all the pizza. Pep-ep-ep-er-ooooni!" 

He smirked at her chanting despite himself and hurried off across the hall. Switching out his own hoodie and tee for the dress shirt wasn't difficult, but as he suspected the garment required a lot of tucking and rolling to even approach fitting. Peter even went so far as to run some wet fingers through his hair to try to tame it, with middling success. In the end, he felt like he looked more like a waiter on his first shift at a mid-tier bistro than anything, but he knew it could have been worse.  
  
He peeked his head out the door and could see that Wade and Ellie were already seated, popping open the lids of the boxes with perhaps more lip smacking noises than were strictly necessary. It was funny, and even a little cute, but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he'd intruded on something special.  
  
"What do you think?" He asked, cautiously stepping into the living room. "Do I pass muster?" 

Wade pulled his attention from Ellie to take in Peter’s new appearance and flushed slightly. Even though the shirt was over-sized on him, Peter had managed to wrestle it into looking halfway decent.  
  
“The tie’s crooked,” Ellie said before glancing at Wade. “Fix it for him.”  
  
He lifted an eyebrow ridge. “Fix it for him, what?”  
  
“Fix it for him, please?” She asked, a little exasperated.  
  
Wade laughed and stood up, moving to stand in front of Peter, eyes fixed firmly on the tie in his hands.  
  
“You look nice.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his shy smile. “She went with the sharks, huh?” 

Peter nodded, throat feeling tight even though the collar of his borrowed shirt was nowhere near close to constricting his breathing. His hands twitched at his side as he looked at the carpet, the pizza boxes, the back of Ellie's head, anything really, except the man in front of him.  
  
"She did. I guess she likes blue? Maybe it brings out the brown in my... uh... everything," he chanced a quick grin.

Wade’s eyes flicked up, catching the grin on Peter’s face before returning to the tie. “Yeah, she’s got a good eye.”

"You really didn't have to let me in," Peter whispered. "I wouldn't have come over if I knew you were...um... busy."

“It’s alright. Ellie’s a social butterfly, unlike her dear old dad. She would’ve gotten bored of me at some point.” Wade chuckled.  
  
While he wouldn’t admit it aloud, Wade would have enjoyed spending quality time with his daughter alone, but having both Peter and Ellie here with him made his chest swell. He could hardly think of a better way to spend the afternoon than with the two most important people in his life.  
  
Immediately, Wade’s hands stilled. He shouldn’t be thinking of him as important. Peter had MJ, after all. 

“Ugh, I should have picked a clip on! Can we eat now?” Ellie whined, bent backwards over the couch arm.  
  
Wade shook his head, a smile gracing his face as he tightened the tie and patted it down. “There, straight.”  
  
He stepped back before turning on his heel, tickling Ellie’s midsection as he walked by. Before sitting in the middle of the couch, he grabbed a plate, serving her a healthy slice before handing it over. 

“You want pepperoni or three meat, Peter?” Wade asked as he placed one of each on his plate. 

"I'm not one to turn down additional meats," Peter answered, taking a seat next to the opposite couch arm as Ellie. "Mm, I love Eddie’s; they'll seriously deliver anywhere."  
  
Peter hurried and took a slice of his own, thinking it wise to shove some food in his mouth before he said any more. The last thing he wanted to do was out himself by revealing that he sometimes got pies delivered to rooftops when he needed to refuel on patrol.  
  
"Thanks for fixing my tie, Wade. And uh, thank you, Ellie for picking it out. Sharks. Classy." 

“Mahr rah assy.” Ellie said through a mouth full of pizza.  
  
Wade had to stop himself from losing it at his daughter’s words. Instead he quickly swallowed his own food before speaking. “Manners, Ellie.” Wade felt a little hypocritical, but he wanted her to be better than him.  
  
She swallowed then spoke again. “Sharks are classy. Has dad ever told you about his friends, Deborah and Bruce?”  
  
Wade shrugged his shoulders. “You meet some crazy people in my line of business.”  
  
He leaned over and whispered to Peter. “She knows some things about my job, but I do my best to keep the grisly bits out. She knows I’m a super, just not which one.” 

Peter nodded, his gaze pinned to the face of the child happily stuffing herself a few feet away, but his mind was still wrapping around what she'd said.  
  
"Oh, you know what Ellie... I don't think your uh, father..." he glanced to Wade who didn't react to the word at all, "has told me about them. But then, I guess we don't talk a lot about work. I mean who would want to? BORING! We might as well be talking about math class, right?" 

Wade just gave a sigh and leaned back on the couch, eating his pizza, his eyes full of mirth.  
  
Ellie gave an affronted gasp. “Boring!? How dare?” She hopped up onto the couch, her hands on her hips. “My dad’s a superhero! He gets to fight all the baddies!” With her hands held high, she swooped her arms through the air, brandishing an invisible sword. “ _And_ he gets to fight with all the other heroes!”  
  
Jumping onto the couch arm making whooshing sounds, she vanquished an invisible enemy. Wade’s hand shot out, hovering at the ready in case she tried to pull a fancy move. His timing was perfect as he caught her just as she jumped backwards onto the couch.  
  
“Honey, watch the pizza,” he said, even though he knew at this point she probably wasn’t even listening.  
  
He still held her in his hand, over his lap, so he could place his plate on the table. While he moved, she kept her eyes on Peter. “Do you know who his favorite superhero is?” 

"Captain America?" Peter ventured, hoping against hope he was right. "He's everyone's favorite, isn't he?"  
  
"Pffff, maybe if you're a goodie-goodie early homework turner inner!" She shook her head, bobbing from side to side as far as the sofa cushions would allow. "I mean, Captain America is okay, I guess, even if they always play his videos in school to tell us not to bully each other and remember to eat our vegetables. But I know the truth! Pizza _is_ a vegetable!" She hopped two more times before kicking both legs out in front of her and finally dropping back to sit next to Wade.  
  
"Dad is totally besties with Spidey!" Ellie's hands were cupped around her mouth as though she was telling a secret, but her voice was practically a playground squeal. "They do superhero missions all the time and Spidey even lets him use his web shooters sometimes because they're Bee-Eff-Effs!" She signed the letters along with her outburst, and Peter wondered vaguely where she'd picked them up, before processing the rest of her words.  
  
"Wow, they must be really good friends then," he nodded, looking back to Wade with a sympathetic smile. 

Wade returned it with an uneasy grin of his own, realizing he didn’t really want to talk about Spider-Man with Peter. Not when his feelings for both of them were a bit confusing as of late. Besides, whenever Peter was around, all his thoughts of Spidey tended to get pushed aside anyway.

“Yeah, we get along pretty well.” He shrugged at Peter’s comment, lifting an eyebrow ridge. Of course Wade blushed thinking about how the two of them met in the first place.   
  
Ellie got up and crawled over her dad to squeeze between the two men, leaning over as she cupped her mouth to Peter’s ear, this time keeping her voice low as she talked.  
  
“I once caught him kissing a picture of Spider-Man!” She giggled as she fell back against Wade. “My dad loves Spidey lots.”  
  
“Ellie!” Wade said, caught off guard and not quick enough to have stopped her from telling him. By now Peter had to know just how he felt about Spider-Man, or at least have an idea. Still, hearing it said out loud was embarrassing.  
  
She turned her attention to her dad, head in her hands. “Dad, why didn’t you take Spider-Man out on a date for Valentine’s day?”  
  
Wade instantly flushed a bright crimson, but did his best to sound calm. “Because I wanted to spend the day with you, pumpkin.” He booped her on the nose, which she promptly scrunched up and rubbed at. “Speaking of, are you done eating?”  
  
“Yup, yup!”  
  
“Then you ready for gelato?” He asked her, but also glanced up at Peter to see if he was up to it as well. 

Peter didn't know how to respond to Ellie's conspiratorial whispers, but it didn't matter much since he hardly had a chance to get a word in before she continued spouting all of her father's deepest secrets at breakneck speed. Wade was clearly embarrassed, and it was perhaps his unwillingness to look directly at Peter that kept him from noticing the color climbing into his cheeks as well.  
  
He was actually glad when dessert came up; stepping outside would give him a chance to change the topic as the late winter air brought his face down to a normal temperature. 

* * *

"So, Ellie," Peter began, feeling a little more like himself now that they were out on the street. He couldn't help but smile at the way the girl was swinging from her father's arm, grinning up at him as they both crooned the lyrics to some Taylor Swift song Peter could only hum the chorus to. "Why is this gelato shop your favorite?" 

Ellie took her dad’s hand in one before reaching out to Peter, wrapping her fingers around his palm so she could hop and swing between the two of them. “It’s not my favorite, or at least not yet. I haven’t been before.”  
  
The sight of his daughter cheerfully chatting with Peter warmed Wade’s heart. He was glad she didn’t seem upset that they had a third member along for their outing today.  
  
“It’s the closest I can get to to taking her to Italy for real gelato.” He smiled down at her. “One day, I’ll show you the world.”  
  
Ellie’s eyes sparkled as a familiar song popped into her head. “Dad, do you trust me?”  
  
“What?” he asked, looking at her skeptically.  
  
She stopped in her tracks, pulling her hands free and causing the other two to pause as well and turn to her. Satisfied with the level of drama she’d built, she held out her hands to the sides, “Do you trust me?”  
  
“Oh.” Wade said as realization hit. He moved forward, laughing, and picked her up, holding her up above his head in a classic ballet lift.  
  
_“I can show you the world,_ _  
_ _Shining, shimmering, splendid!_ _  
_ _Tell me, princess, now when did_ _  
_ _You last let your heart decide?”_  
  
Wade glanced over at Peter, giving him a quick smile. He indulged his daughter, keeping her above his head with the occasional dip as they sang. Nothing could beat a Disney style musical interlude.  
  
_“I can open your eyes_ _  
_ _Take you wonder by wonder_ _  
_ _Over, sideways and under_ _  
_ _On a magic carpet ride.”_  

While Wade was a whirlwind in his own right, with Ellie's boundless energy added to the mix it seemed there was nothing on Earth that could come between the pair and a good time. They were a verse deep in some of Disney's best as Peter found himself pulling his phone from his pocket, snagging a few quick candid shots of the two of them then stowing it away again before Wade turned his way.  
_  
_ _"A whole new worrrrrld!"_ He jumped in, sliding sideways alongside Wade on the sidewalk. Peter wasn't much of a singer, and usually didn't burst into song in front of other people, but the mood was too infectious to stay on the sidelines.  
_  
_ _"A whole fantastic point of viewwwww!"_

Both Ellie and Wade lit up as he joined in singing. Ellie lost her place in the song for a second as she giggled, but effortlessly picked it back up as Wade shifted her to sit on his shoulders.  
  
Without realizing what he was doing, Wade grabbed Peter’s hand, still holding Ellie in place on his shoulder, and began to dance along the sidewalk as they kept singing.  For a moment, Wade forgot about all the other people in NYC. It was just him, Peter and Ellie. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.  
  
_“I'll chase them anywhere!_ _  
_ _There's time to spare!_ _  
_ _Let me share this whole new world with you.”_  
  
Ellie watched as her dad pulled Peter to face him as he sang, quirking her eyebrow in curiosity. She went quiet for the last part of the song, holding back a gleeful giggle as the two finished the ending almost on key. 

Peter's chest was rising and falling quickly, lungs stinging with cold air, but the smiles he saw on Wade and Ellie's faces made it all worthwhile. Standing in front of Wade now, the fronts of their jackets nearly touching, he felt like he was seeing his friend properly for the first time since the door had opened that afternoon. In that moment, everything felt normal. No... better than normal. Everything felt... _right._

"I guess a love of the classics runs in the family, huh?" He took half a step back, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Jasmine was always one of the most kick-butt princesses. And Aladdin, running across rooftops, helping out the little guy when the law wouldn't? Sounds like my kind of guy, prince or not." Smiling, he shoved his hands back into his pockets before turning back to walk down the sidewalk again.

“I’m pretty fond of the Genie. Always willing to help his friends out, even if it means bending the rules a little.” Wade replied, feeling the cool air against his flushed skin, silently lamenting the loss of Peter’s hand in his own. He kept his eyes forward, but found himself watching Peter in his peripherals.  
  
"It's starting to get chilly again, Ellie. Are we close?" Peter asked, peering up at her. "I'm thinking about getting an extra large scoop of chocolate. Do you think they'll heat it up and put it in a mug for me?"

“Missed the place by a block.” She grinned wide, throwing a thumb up, pointing behind them. “And you can’t enjoy gelato all melted!” The look she gave Peter made it clear he’d suggested the most horrific thing in the world.  
  
“Why’d you let us pass the shop, Ellie Belly?” Wade asked as he turned them around and headed back up the block.  
  
“‘Cause I was enjoying watching you and Peter dance.” She patted the knit cap on Wade’s head. “It was too cute.” 

Peter looked up at Ellie with a quizzical expression. He was used to be called any number of things by his younger fans while out as Spider-Man, but "cute" wasn't one of them. Maybe the girl was just at that age where _everything_ was cute. Having never been an eight-year-old girl, he couldn't say for sure.  
  
"It's alright," Quickly changing direction, he peered ahead to try and spot the storefront. "It just means we're burning more calories, and that means more room for dessert. Trust me, I'm a scientist!" He added an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

Ellie rolled her eyes at Peter.  
  
“You’re not a scientist yet, Petey.” Wade said as he opened the door to the shop.  
  
He set Ellie down to run ahead and she immediately began looking over the selection, talking excitedly with the person behind the counter. Wade laughed at her rapid fire questions about the flavors and samples.  
  
Wade glanced over at Peter, a bit unsure of what to say after their shenanigans outside. He really needed to step back if Ellie was getting suspicious and he still needed to talk to Peter about why he wasn’t with MJ today. That one still stumped him. A small part of himself was telling him that he was the one making assumptions, that he had been making assumptions all those weeks ago and never gave Peter a chance to correct him. Although to be fair, he was _really_ good at not letting anyone get a word in edgewise sometimes.  
  
“Hey, Peter-” before he could ask his question, there was a squeal of excitement from Ellie.  
  
She ran to them, empty sample cup being waved back and forth. “I want the superhero flavor!”  
  
Wade walked over to her, picking her up and setting her on his hip. “Oh? Who’s the lucky superhero today?”  
  
“Someone called Deadpool.” She stated, looking back at the glass separating them from all the flavors.  
  
Wade’s eyes went wide and he shot over to the counter. Sure enough there was his name in a bold font, the actual flavor underneath in smaller lettering. 

Peter glanced at Wade, then down to the display. It brought a smile to his face, to see Deadpool being recognized in a positive light for once. Okay, so maybe a novelty flavor at a single gelato shop wasn't exactly a litmus test for the public opinion of the entire city, but it was a start.  
  
"Gansito!" He exclaimed, bending down to take a closer look. "I used to buy those from the bodega in my old neighborhood. I would have never imagined them as a gelato flavor. Sure beats boring old cookies and cream, right?" Indicating he wanted a scoop as well, the clerk put together and handed over a medium cup for him as well as a large one for Ellie, both garnished with Pocky and Cheerio katanas.  
  
"Do you know anything about Deadpool, Ellie?" he asked, taking a bite of his dessert. It tasted exactly like the snack cake, down to the slightly waxy chocolate and overly sweet strawberry jam. Nostalgic and delicious. "He's kind of new to the hero scene." 

Wade accepted his large cup of _his_ flavor. Blinking rapidly for a moment, he fought to hold back tears of happiness that threatened to spill. He didn’t think he deserved this, not yet. His aim was to not be like his old self, avoiding even looking into contracts unless the money was a certain amount. Old habits were had to quit. It was still challenging coming to terms with not simply killing every evil fucker he came across. He stared at the gelato for a second, his brain just not quite accepting it, but Ellie’s voice snapped him back to the here and now.

“Not much, but I know he works with Spider-Man, so I guess he’s cool.” She pulled one of the candied katanas from her cup. “I like his swords!” She swung her mini sword around, poking at her father’s arm. 

 

“Oh no! My arm! What did you do Ellie?!” Wade said as his arm went limp playfully and collapsing in a chair. Ellie covered her mouth with her cup, giggling but ran to hide behind Peter. 

Peter gasped in mock surprise at Wade's display, narrowly catching his cup before it tumbled to the floor.  
  
"Oh no," he shook his head. "It looks like the cut is too deep. I'm afraid we're going to have to amputate. Nurse Ellie, I'm going to need you to assist."  
  
"Yes, Dr. Peter, sir!" She saluted with her plastic spoon still tight in hand.  
  
"Mr. Wilson, I suggest you bite down on something for the pain," Peter instructed him, nodding sagely as he pretended to assess the imaginary damage.  
  
Ellie climbed into her own seat at the table, scooping up as large a spoonful of her father's gelato as she could, propelling it towards his mouth. "This!"  
  
"I just have to get my lightsaber ready for the operation..." Peter pulled one of his own candy swords from his cup with a theatrical _WAAAAHHWWWWW._ "Alright, one, two, three... _WEEOOOHHWWWW."_ He waved the stick towards Wade's arm. "The operation was a success. Nurse, how is the patient doing?" 

Wade grinned around the spoon of gelato in his mouth. He knew Peter could be ridiculous, but seeing him play with Ellie, Wade was loving it.  
  
“The patient will be alright.” She laughed from her spot across from Peter, who’d taken residence up on the other side of Wade.  
  
Wade shook his head. “I have to disagree, nurse. I think you need to kiss the booboo to make it better.” He pouted at her.  
  
She scuttled across his lap and took his hand, kissing it as though she was a knight greeting a princess before holding it up Peter, expectantly. “I’m just a nurse. There’s only so much I can do, Doctor.”  
  
Wade watched, curious to see what Peter would do. 

Peter faltered for half a second. Despite Wade and Ellie's shared penchant for being overdramatic, he still wasn't expecting to be put on the spot quite like this, but the young girl seemed quite intent on putting him through his paces. Still, weren't kids supposed to be... protective of their parents? He knew he'd be naturally suspicious of anyone he saw kissing his Aunt May, and he was a fully grown, rational adult.  
  
Well, mostly rational anyway.  
  
"If it's for the life of the patient, then I'll do what needs to be done," he answered solemnly. He leaned over, pulling Wade's arm towards himself until his wrist was exposed beyond the edge of his jacket. For a second, Peter's lips hovered over the spot before he looked up at Wade and bent down, pressing his lips to the uncovered skin.  
  
He, of course, followed the gesture by blowing a magnificent raspberry right on the spot, pulling a giggle from Ellie and several looks of distaste from some of the other patrons. 

Wade felt his face heat up as Peter glanced up at him, but the embarrassment was short lived. Letting out a guffaw, he clapped his free hand over his mouth while lightly shoving Peter’s face with the other.  
  
“Alright! This patient is all better.” He stood up from the chair, picked up Ellie, putting her back atop his shoulders and grabbed his gelato. “Let’s get back to the apartment. Ellie, whatcha got planned next?”  
  
“Not sure yet,” she said before returning to her dessert, suddenly growing more quiet and contemplative.  
  
“Don’t think I’m a fan of you going silent, pumpkin. Never bodes well for me,” Wade chuckled.  
  
He glanced at Peter and felt his cheeks heat back up but quickly went to hold the door. “You ready?” 

Peter hopped up from his spot, wondering if he'd done something wrong. The whole afternoon, Ellie had been rambunctious and cheerful and honestly a delight to be around. But her sudden withdrawn demeanor made Peter nervous. What if she decided she didn't like him? She'd certainly tell Wade at some point. And Peter couldn't dream that the man would put aside his daughter's own misgivings for his sake.  
  
"Yeah," he nodded, hurrying through the door, trying not to make it quite so obvious as he attempted to read the expression on Ellie's face.  
  
Maybe he should quit while he was ahead. Get back to Wade's apartment and change back into his own clothes before making a hasty exit. At least that way he wouldn't have a chance to offend Ellie any more and he might still be able salvage some of her earlier goodwill towards him.  
  
"Know any more Disney tunes?" He queried as they made their way back to the apartment. 

The grin she gave Peter could only be described as the Cheshire Cat’s own.  
  
_“Twas Brillig, and the slithy toves_ _  
_ _Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:”_  
  
Wade tilted his head to the side, letting out a huff of a laugh around a mouth full of gelato.  
  
“What have you got going on in that little head of yours?” he asked once he finished his bite.  
  
_“All mimsy were the borogoves,_ _  
_ _And the mome raths outgrabe.”_  
  
She continued to hum, and Wade shrugged his shoulders before turning his attention to Peter, noticing he looked a little uneasy.  
  
“You alright, over there?” 

Peter was glad to see Ellie’s smile, even if something gave him the sneaking suspicion it couldn't be trusted at face value. He bobbed his head along with the rhythm of her song nonetheless, impressed at her memorization of all the nonsense words.  
  
"Oh, yes. Yeah I'm fine. Probably just had a little too much gelato. You know what they say about eating dairy just before going into surgery."  
  
He shuffled along behind the two of them, never falling too far behind, but doing his best to give the pair some space. After what felt like the longest six block walk in the world, they were finally back at Wade's apartment, and Peter was already scanning the living room trying to remember where he'd laid his things. 

Ellie, hyped on sugar, paid him little mind as she began to tug the coffee table out of the way of the couch. “Dad! Can you turn on Spotify?” She asked.  
  
“Yeah I can.” He pulled out his phone, bringing it up and moved towards the tv to connect the two devices.

"Ellie, I have to thank you again for letting me stick around for your special Valentine's lunch." 

Both Wade and Ellie stopped short, turning abruptly to look at Peter. Ellie instinctively responded with a quick “You’re welcome,” but Wade noticed there was something off about Peter’s tone. He realized Peter was looking for his backpack. 

“Oh, have we been keeping you, Peter?” It dawned on him that Peter must have wanted to drop in for a quick visit. He must have had some free time before his Valentine’s date with MJ.  
  
“What? You can’t leave, Peter!” Ellie stomped, a pout gracing her face as she crossed her arms.  
  
“Ellie.” Wade chided her. 

Peter couldn't keep his brow from wrinkling but tried to keep the obvious confusion off his face. If Ellie wasn't itching to get rid of him so she could have quality time with her dad, then what was her sudden mood swing about? But it seemed his attempt to slip away was doing more to upset her than anything he'd done at the shop. He had to think fast.  
  
Luckily, that _was_ something he was good at.  
  
"Oh, no, I wasn't heading out..." he said nonchalantly, as though it was the furthest thing from his mind. "I was just looking for something." He tapped one finger on his chin, pretending to think hard. "Maybe you can help me find it."  
  
He flipped over some of the sofa cushions, popped open the lid of one of the pizza boxes, even examined a few DVD's from Wade's collection.

Wade looked on confused. Just what was Peter up to? He watched as Peter’s demeanor shifted and his full attention turned back to Ellie.

"Nope, not here," he shook his head. "Have you seen it, Ellie?"  
  
"Seen what?" She asked eagerly, desperate to be a part of the game.  
  
"I could have sworn it was around here. Maybe you've run into it, Wade."  
  
"What? What is it?" Ellie was practically bouncing, although some of that might have been the sugar.  
  
"The beat!" Peter answered, turning around quickly, shaking his hips and bending his elbows without a hint of grace. "I just can't... seem... to find... it!"

Ellie squealed in horrified delight. “Ugh! No! What even are you doing?”  
  
She ran from Peter and nabbed the phone out of her dad’s hand, sticking out her tongue in concentration, as she searched for something. Wade could guess what she was doing and went to finish moving the coffee table she’d only managed to nudge over a couple of inches.  
  
The music started up and Wade didn’t immediately recognize it. He looked at Ellie for askance.  
  
“Fancy Valentine’s needs fancy music.” She said, just as the singer started to croon.  
  
Ellie had chosen Michael Bublé’s ‘My Funny Valentine’. Wade didn’t really listen to the guy, but he picked up fast that his songs were the perfect type for romantic dancing. Of course that only made him grow suspicious of what his daughter was planning. She just gave him a too-innocent smile as she moved towards Peter, holding a hand out.

“How ‘bout I help you with that beat?” She asked. 

Peter paused in his gyrations (he wouldn't dare to call it dancing) long enough to listen to the music Ellie had chosen for a few beats. It wasn't the sort of music he would have imagined any child would listen to, but if nothing else the afternoon had taught him that kids were full of surprises.  
  
The room was instantly filled with a dramatic beat and an impressive baseline that sounded like the opening of a James Bond film rather than any kind of dance music, but Peter soon started stepping to it, taking long, sweeping steps towards Ellie. He grasped her hand with his own and scooped her up by the waist so her feet were dangling down by his knees, and started performing an overdramatic version of a tango with his pint sized partner.  
  
"Why Miss Ellie, has anyone ever told you you dance divinely?" He grinned. 

Ellie giggled as Peter swept her off her feet, literally. “Not today!” she told him. “Mr. Peter, has anyone told you you make a wonderful date?”  
  
Wade sat down on the couch, watching Peter dance with his daughter. He looked genuinely happy, doing what he could to keep a smile on her face and Ellie was having a blast. While she might have had a fun day with just the two of them, she had taken to Peter quite quickly.  
  
As he watched them move across the floor, barely keeping time with the music but enjoying themselves nonetheless, something clicked into place for Wade. His eyes widened and he tried to shove the notion from his mind. He wasn’t allowed a thought like that. There was no way he deserved it.  
  
But for a split moment, that feeling was all he could focus on. He imagined he might look a little terrified, but the other two were so focused on dancing, he was able school his features before they could see.  
  
_He was in love with Peter._  

Peter was too busy having a great time galavanting around the room with Ellie to notice any change in Wade's mood. He liked kids, but didn't really have much of a chance to spend time with them outside from the occasional high five while doing Spidey business. It didn't hurt that Ellie was every bit as funny and quick witted as her father.  
  
"Wonderful date, huh? Like March 23rd? Or October 11th? When the leaves are nice and crunchy and the air is cool and crisp? All excellent dates." He winked as she groaned at him, eyes rolling as she stuck her tongue out.  
  
"Although to be honest, I haven't been on a date in a long time," he admitted. "And now I'm thinking it might be ages before I go again. I mean, what could top an afternoon of fine food and dancing?"  
  
Peter dipped Ellie just once before spinning around and bringing her to the sofa, lifting her up before letting her fall with an energetic bounce next to Wade.  
  
"Your turn, dad!" She insisted. 

Wade had zoned so far out, trying to extinguish his previous line of thought, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ellie was playfully plopped down next to him. His heart did stop at spotting Peter so close, a smile adorning his face. All he could think was, _Shit._  
  
He quickly turned to Ellie, adorning his face into a broad smile. “Awesome. I could never turn down the chance to share a dance with my wonderful daughter,” he said as he picked her up.  
  
Ellie eyed him, his wording feeling off, but she ignored it though in favor of getting to dance with her dad. The next song had begun, but it was still Michael Bublé crooning over the speakers. Her grandmother liked him, so she knew he was a good pick for Valentine’s music.  
  
“Are you having a good Valentine’s Day, pumpkin?” Wade asked as he moved in a simple waltz in time with the music.  
  
She smiled wide. “Lots of fun, dad!” 

Peter took that as his cue to step aside, but rather than filling Wade's spot on the sofa he found a better vantage point in one of the corners of the living room. While the other two were happily distracted swaying to the beat of the song, Peter discreetly snapped a few more photos of the pair. Maybe he could print them out later, give them as a gift to Wade.  
  
_...Not a Valentine's gift of course, just a friendly...friend... gift as a memento.... Of that time we spent Valentine's Day together..._  
  
He was glad neither Wade nor Ellie were looking his way, because his cheeks were growing a little warm with the thought, which was stupid. He and Wade had shared meals, a bed, and no small number of kisses. Why should something as small and sentimental as a photograph make Peter's pulse quicken?  
  
_Because it_ is _small and sentimental, you dummy._ He chided himself.  
  
He watched a little longer, feeling the mild embarrassment ebb into unguarded endearment as Ellie stepped up onto her father's feet, letting him guide their steps for the next part of the song. Peter wondered if Ellie might ever get married. If she did, would Wade be there to share a father daughter dance at the reception? He'd like to see that. 

 _“And in this crazy life,_ _  
_ _And through these crazy times,_ _  
_ _It's you, it's you._ _  
_ _You make me sing,_ _  
_ _You're every line,_ _  
_ _You're every word,_ _  
_ _You're everything.”_  
  
Wade began to sing along with the song, picking up at the chorus, smiling down at Ellie, heartened as she smiled back and sang along. He never had much of a reason to sing before Ellie came along, but she loved it. Before he knew it singing at the top of their lungs was practically their ‘thing’. Even though he could barely carry a tune, Wade would croon for hours just because it made her laugh.  
  
_“You're a carousel._ _  
_ _You're a wishing well._ _  
_ _And you'll hang me up,_ _  
_ _When you ring my bell_ _  
_ _You're a mystery._ _  
_ _You're from outer space._ _  
_ _You're every minute of my everyday.”_  
  
Ellie watched from the corner of her eye as Peter tried to be sneaky about taking pictures. Smirking, she glanced back at her father. The look he sported told her he hadn’t caught on. She was young, but not dumb. Even if she wasn’t sure what was going on between them, she could pick up an edge of tension in the air. But for now, it was time to focus on phase three of her plan.  
  
Wade couldn’t help glancing over at Peter as he sung along with Ellie. He sent a smile his way before turning away, his attention back on Ellie. As the song hit it’s crescendo, he spun them a little faster, picking up Ellie so he could swing her effortlessly through the air.  
  
They didn’t make it to the end of the song before breaking into peals of laughter. Wade set his daughter down, crouching next to her and placing a kiss to her head before she popped out of his hold and ran over to Peter.  
  
“Your turn!” she said, pushing him towards Wade. “Dance with Dad!” 

Peter was shaken out of his daydreaming when Ellie's hands started pressing firmly against his back, shoving him towards Wade as she insisted they dance together. He turned his head back over his shoulder to try and object, but she looked so determined he didn't think he had a chance to convince her. Besides, it wasn't as though he had a good reason _not_ to dance with Wade, and he didn't want to darken her mood after they'd all had such a pleasant afternoon.

Wade watched Ellie curiously as he stood, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and looked at Peter, offering a hand. His nerves were off the charts, but he wasn’t about to deny his daughter.  
  
But his face went red as ‘Nevertheless’ started playing. He knew this song.

"Uh, in... in that case..." Peter stammered, looking up at Wade and accepting his hand, "May I have this dance?" He gave Wade a shy smile and a shrug as the soft sweetness of the song swelled around them.

 _"Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong_  
_Maybe I'm weak, maybe I'm strong_  
_But nevertheless I'm in love with you_ "

Wade took the lead, hoping it would help distract him from the words of the damn song. Of course this would be the one that played right now. He was stiff in his movements as he held up his left hand in the air, bringing Peter’s with it, and then letting his right fall to Peter’s waist after making sure his was on Wade’s shoulder.  
  
Ellie smiled triumphantly and made her way over to the couch to watch. As she got comfortable, a large yawn erupted from her. She blinked, and rubbed at her eyes before giving the two men her attention. Of course, she had to roll her eyes at her dad as his movements became far from fluid.

 _"Maybe I'll win, maybe I'll lose_  
_And maybe I'm in for crying the blues_  
_But nevertheless I'm in love with you"_  
  
Wade was thinking too hard on the steps and it showed, especially when he ended up stepping on Peter’s toes. “Sorry.” He murmured, his eyes having no real choice but to focus on Peter in front of him. 

It was strange to see Wade moving around so clumsily, as though he had no idea how to maneuver his considerable bulk around the tiny room, especially since Peter knew that wasn't true. A towering wall of muscle, Deadpool could flip and leap with the best of them. Seeing him in action was like watching a top tier predator on the hunt, a lion stalking on the Savannah.  
  
"It's okay," Peter nodded, but their knees continued to knock together, and at one point Wade nearly backed him into the coffee table. It was a shame, he'd had fun cutting loose with Ellie, but the whole situation seemed to be throwing Wade for a loop. Was the dance hitting too close to home? Was Wade worried about getting too close to Peter in front of Ellie, lest she figure out the bizarre details of their relationship?  
  
"Here," he said quietly, giving Wade his most reassuring smile. "Why don't you let me lead for a bit?" 

Wade was tempted to protest, he wasn’t good at giving up the reigns, but he closed his mouth and nodded. It took a moment to relax and he bit his lip, still a little too much in his own head.

 _"Somehow, I know at a glance, the terrible chances I'm taking_  
_Fine at the start, then left with a heart that is breaking"_  
  
It was just Peter he was dancing with; Wade could trust him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment before letting it go, dispersing his thoughts.  
  
Opening his eyes, he slowly registered that he’d relaxed enough to be led, and he was no longer causing them injury. Wade chuckled softly, the absurdity of it all getting to him, but at least now he was enjoying himself. 

Peter hadn't done _a lot_ of ballroom dancing in his day, but thanks to his Aunt and a few obliging radio stations back when he was getting ready for various school affairs, he could at least do better than just rocking side to side while counting down the minutes until the song ended. It was of course, very different dancing with Wade than Gwen or Mary Jane, and he fully expected the other man to struggle with being led, but within a few measures they were both moving together along with the music.  
  
"That's a lot better isn't it? Feels like we're at homecoming or something," he grinned. "Except I don't have to worry about Flash Thompson turning the punch bowl out over my head."  

“I guess it’s fine.” Wade huffed playfully, rolling his eyes. He found he didn’t mind letting Peter take the lead. “Also that guy sounds like an asshole. Do I need to punch him for you?”  
  
Peter looked up, an appreciative smile on his face, but his nose wrinkled and he shook his head, making it clear no violence was necessary.

“Honestly, I’m not sure where I learned to dance,” Wade added, bringing his attention back to Peter. “Don’t know if it was for some school dance, or leftover training from my time in the military. Hell, the only reason I know about my military record from before the mutation is from other sources, and for all I know they could be lies.” He shrugged. “What is homecoming?” 

Peter's brow furrowed at Wade's open admission and explanation about his Swiss cheese memory, but he decided not to linger on it, instead focusing on the question. Keeping things light was probably for the best.

 _"Maybe I'll live a life of regret,_  
_And maybe I'll give much more than I get_  
_But nevertheless, I'm in love with you"_  
  
"Oh, um. You know, I've never really understood the whole tradition. I know there's usually a big football game, and sometimes a parade? And then that same weekend the school has a dance, but it's not just for upperclassmen." Huh. Had he really been so focused on his schoolwork doing high school that he'd never bothered to look deeper than that?  
  
Well, yes. _Obviously._  
  
"Why it was such an _important_ football game, I'll never know, but it did seem to give all the athletes carte blanche to do whatever they wanted around the school." He shook his head, it seemed so long ago. "Thankfully, I think most of us have grown a lot since then. I actually get along okay with Flash these days, when we happen to run into each other. He's become a pretty good friend." 

“Not sure what sport was popular in Canada’s schools, but I can feel it in my bones, team sports were not my thing. Hockey sure is fun to watch, though.” 

Wade laughed but his curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “So was Flash one of those types that pretended to dislike you, but was actually super into you?” He grinned. “Was it a kiss and make up situation?” He couldn’t help the teasing, but at least it kept the sudden pangs of jealousy at bay.

_"Fine at the start, then left with a heart that is breaking"_

Laughter sputtered out of Peter before he could stop it, and he had to pause to catch his breath.

Wade’s eyebrow ridge lifted as Peter laughed, nearly throwing their movements off. He had not quite expected that much of a reaction.

"No, no nothing like that," Peter shook his head. "I think after a few years he just matured. We both did. And when we saw each other again it was with a lot more life experience and understanding of what other people go through. It was easy to bury the hatchet."  
  
His eyes held Wade's gaze, and he thought he caught the faintest hint of tension here, as though Wade was waiting for more of an explanation. "I don't have a lot of close friends, and I'm glad that I can count Flash among them, but he is just that. A friend."

_"Maybe I'll live a life of regret,"_

Hearing Peter’s admission made Wade’s heart twist painfully. It was one more reason not to let his own feelings ruin their friendship. 

“Then I’m glad you can count him as a friend.”

 _"And maybe I'll give so much more than I get_  
_But nevertheless, I'm in love with you"_

Peter pushed a few inches closer, forcing Wade's arms to bend a little more, until their chests brushed against each other and it would take only the slightest effort to press their lips together. His breath caught in his throat, but he managed to whisper.

 _"I'm in love with you"_  
  
"It's different," his voice barely carried over the music. " Different than being with someone I really connect with, someone I care about, someone I-"

Wade sucked in a sharp breath as Peter closed what little distance was between them, and he felt his heart speed up with every word. He wasn’t sure he wanted to follow Peter’s line of thought. If what he was hinting at was true…

But whatever Peter was going to say next was lost as the loping tones of classy backup singers started coming through the speakers.  
  
“ _Badoo, Badoo, Badoo, Badoo_  
_Santa Baby, slip a rolex under the tree_  
_For me…”_

Wade didn’t get to think on it further before the music snapped the tension in two. He automatically took a step back, torn between freaking out and laughing at suddenly hearing a jazzy Christmas tune.  
  
He wasn’t sure the expression on his face, but he shook his head, and gave into laughing. His nerves came back full force and he brought a hand to his head, running it over his bald scalp. 

In his experience, Peter had found laughter to be a bad thing whenever kissing was involved. And he _had_ been about to kiss Wade, he could at least admit that much to himself.  
  
But Wade's soft, almost shy chuckling was more endearing than embarrassing in any way, and probably had to do with the abrupt interruption of Michael Bublé cataloging everything he wanted for Christmas. It did conjure up some pretty hilarious images of a full grown man hopping onto a poor mall Santa's lap before soulfully crooning his Amazon wishlist like a spoiled child.  
  
Speaking of children...  
  
Peter turned quickly, suddenly worried about what Ellie had seen, even though he was pretty sure this was part of the clever girl's plan the whole time. Still, he didn't want to get her novice matchmaker hopes up. After all, he had no idea how Wade was going to react when he told him about Spider-Man. It would suck for Ellie to form any kind of attachment to him if Wade (justifiably) chose to shut him out of his life after that. 

Wade followed Peter’s line of sight to the couch where his daughter resided. His smile softened as he looked at her, passed out on the arm of the couch, the victim of an inevitable sugar crash.  
  
He moved over to her, picking her up in his arms. She barely moved as he carried her.  
  
“I’m going to put her to bed, I’ll be right back,” he whispered.  
  
He walked down his hallway to his own bedroom to put her down. Ellie didn’t have her own room in the apartment as the second bedroom was set aside for his own selfish use, but it was alright, she didn’t get to spend the night with him often enough for it to matter. This weekend was one of the rare occasions.  
  
Laying his daughter on the bed, he tucked her in, the movement just enough to rouse her. She opened her eyes a little bit, a small smile playing on her lips.  
  
“Dad, do you love Peter?” she asked, voice soft with sleep.  
  
Wade faltered, not sure how to answer. After a moment, he brushed some of her curls out of her face. “Yeah, pumpkin, I think I do.”  
  
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as she closed her eyes again. Later he’d have to sit her down for a talk about not getting her hopes up, but also tease her about playing matchmaker.  
  
Standing next to the bed, he let out a soft sigh, watching her fall back asleep before finally returning to Peter. 

Peter spent his moments alone returning the living room back to rights, and switching the best of Bublé to something a little less intrusive (not that he could blame his actions on the music.) Even in front of Ellie, he had been a hair's breadth away from exposing the depth of his feelings. But Peter knew that he couldn't do that, at least not now, with the way things stood. There was an order to this, and he had to follow it, or he risked hurting the man he'd come to care about.  
  
"She's asleep?" He kept his voice low as Wade returned, joining him on the sofa. "It's been quite an afternoon." 

“Yeah, out like a light.” Wade leaned back into the couch, trying to relax and not act like his mind was running a mile a minute. “Thanks for sticking around, even when she got a little bratty.” 

"Ellie seems like a handful," Peter agreed, "but sweet. I guess it runs in the family." 

Wade let out a huff of a laugh at the compliment. Ellie did seem to inherit a good chunk of his personality. He just hoped all his mental issues were a result of the Weapon X program and not genetic so she’d never have to deal with them. 

“I can’t claim to be anything like a good father, but it’s hard to be a dad when you don’t even know the kid exists. Eleanor was already six when I finally learned about her.” He sighed, wishing it had been under better circumstances.  “At first I tried to keep my distance, but one look at her and I knew I would do absolutely anything for her.” 

Tapping his fingers, he took a moment before continuing. “I’m, uh, still kind of on a trial period. We only get to hang out on major holidays, but if Preston is feeling generous, I’m allowed to overnight visits like this one.” He waved a lazy hand at the leftover pizza boxes and plastic glasses still littering the apartment.  “Since I missed Christmas, I felt like I had a lot to make up for.”

With the sudden calm in the apartment, Wade’s mind couldn’t help but return to the question that had been plaguing him since Peter showed up at his door. He picked at a random stray thread on his jeans with one hand, the other going behind his head.  
  
“So, what happened with MJ? I thought you’d be spending today with her? Or do you got a date with her later this evening?”

Peter smiled, but it faltered slightly at Wade's question. "Right. About that..." Mary Jane had once played a large role in his life, which is probably why it still stung a little to think about her even now.  
  
"I think... the other day, I wasn't as clear as I should have been." He placed his hands flat against his knees, fingers tensing as he prepared to launch into what would no doubt be an uncomfortable explanation.  
  
"MJ and I... well you weren't entirely wrong. There's a lot of history there, maybe too much. And yeah, we... we dated for a long time." His lips tensed as memories flashed before his eyes, red hair practically glowing in the sunshine, bright laughter from across a candlelit table, a cool and slender hand held gently in his own...  
  
"There was a time... when I thought maybe we would... that she might..." He shook his head. "But that was a long time ago. Another life. Another me."

Wade watched Peter talk about MJ, and partially regretted bringing her up as Peter grew tense, but he was grateful that Peter was comfortable enough with him to open up like this. He nodded in understanding. There were a couple of people like that in his past, even if he hadn’t seen them in many years.

“I’m sorry I made that assumption then. I didn’t mean to reopen an old wound.” He shifted forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasped his hand. “But it’s pretty great that you two still get along well enough.”  
  
While a small part of him rejoiced, Wade had to remind himself that even though MJ and Peter weren’t an item, that didn’t mean he and Peter could automatically start something. The two of them were still building a foundation. Just because he thought Peter might have been leaning in for a kiss moments long ago, that didn’t mean he saw Wade as a potential romantic partner. After all, they'd done that and more in the past with no mention of a relationship. 

"We had a small but tight-knit circle of friends, and she always got along well with my aunt. In the end, even though we couldn't make it work didn't mean we hated each other. Quite the opposite really." He looked over to Wade, wondering if they were setting themselves up for a similar fate. Maybe Wade wouldn't be able to trust Peter as he had before, maybe he'd think he held onto his secret for too long. Maybe it would end up straining their friendship, even if they had to work together on the odd mission from time to time. There was only one way to know for sure.  
  
"Even though we cared a lot about each other, and we still do, she had a vision of the future she wanted for the two of us. And in the end, that just didn't work out with the life I was leading. The life I couldn't leave behind." 

Wade looked at Peter curiously. It seemed he was learning a lot about Peter as the afternoon wore on. He tried to think on what he knew of Peter, but it was still a fairly limited scope. They’d only known each other for three months or so. Aside from Ellie, Wade didn’t feel like he was particularly guarded when it came to the details of his own life, but that was because he could defend himself (or happily take a bullet to the brain if the case called for it).  
  
“She not know about your sex work?” The words were spoken before he could stop them. He had only meant to lighten the sense of growing unease rolling off of Peter, but what way should his mind go, but to the awkward reason the two of them met in the first place. 

"My se-" Peter's mouth dropped, his brain failing to reconcile Wade's words and form any kind of intelligible response. He blinked a few times, probably looking like a computer struggling to reboot. Is that... is that what Wade thought he did for a living? I mean, sure, he'd answered Wade's online ad, but that was the first time Peter had ever done such a thing, and he didn't think it put him strictly in the same ballpark as streetwalkers or people who took videos of their feet for fetishists.  
  
His cheeks were hot, bright crimson blooming there as he pulled his wide-eyed gaze away from Wade's curious expression.  
  
"N-no, I haven't ever... I mean... technically I don't think..." Nope. Peter.exe was still failing to run. He ended up closing his eyes and counting to five before starting again.

Wade sat up straight, bringing his hands up but not quite knowing what to do with them. He didn’t mean to break Peter. It was a terrible joke, but Wade was good at those, wasn’t he?

"It wasn't anything like that," Peter began again. "But since you've brought it up, maybe that's a good place to start."

Wade squinted his eyes in confusion. What kind of conversation could his crass humor have possibly started? “What do you mean?” 

"You remember that first night I came over?" Peter asked, shaking his head. "I mean, of course you remember. It wasn't that long ago, and it's what started this whole..." he looked back to Wade, words still failing him. "It's why we got a chance to get to know each other."

“Yeah, definitely one of my favorite memories.” Wade found himself admitting. “Knew you were a keeper when you were willing to put up with my eccentricities.”

Peter took a few more calming breaths. He could do this. He could tell Wade the truth. And for better or worse, at least he could rest easy knowing he'd been honest.  
  
_Except we never really get to rest, do we, Parker? It's not our style to catch a break._  

Wade shifted next to him as nerves flared up. Where was Peter’s going with all this?

"I know we talked about that night already, put the evening and everything that happened under a microscope, and there's a lot between the both of us that's changed since then." Peter rested a hand on Wade's knee, silently praying he wasn't about to make a huge mistake. "There's a lot about how this all got started that I wish I could have done better, but I don't regret any of it. You understand that, right?"

“Pete, you got me a little worried.” Wade’s hand automatically went over Peter’s. He thought that they had already sorted through all that awkwardness from before. His brows furrowed and he frowned, eyes watching Peter as his chest tightened. 

"Sorry, sorry," Peter mumbled, running his free hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and unkempt as he worked on continuing his explanation.  
  
"Look I admit, that first night, I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea what I was in for, no clue what I was going to be asked to do. I didn't know that you were going to be... well... _you."_ He swallowed, shifting himself to look back at Wade, trying to soak up whatever strength he could from the other man.

Wade wasn’t sure how to react to Peter’s tone when he mentioned not expecting him to be _him_. What did that even mean? 

"And it wasn't quite what I expected, and there were some moments when I was worried it was all some kind of elaborate joke." A slim smile forced itself onto his face.

“A joke?” Wade found himself asking softly, trying to keep up and be patient for whatever Peter was leading to. 

"Your um... _fascination_ with Spider-Man. Fixation maybe. Would it be too much to call it a crush?" 

Wade was still lost, but maybe the suit he’d had Peter wear that first night was at the heart of all of this.  
  
“Well…” he found himself hesitating, considering how honest to be with Peter, but he felt he should return the favor as the other seemed to be doing his best to open up to him. “I think it’s more than a crush.” 

 _...still not as strong as what I feel for you._  
  
Wade shook his head, dismissing the thought. “What does that matter anyway?” The words came out a little more perturbed than he meant them to. 

Wade's admission had Peter feeling something like butterflies in his stomach, although perhaps they was more akin to bees. Angry bees. Who really wanted to get out. But if Wade still had feelings for Spider-Man, maybe that would make the rest of this go down easier.  
  
"It probably wouldn't matter, not to most people," he explained. "But when I saw the suit, when you asked me to wear it, I thought..." he exhaled, every last bit of breath flooding from his lungs. He was so close, he just had to step off that ledge, take that leap of faith.  
  
"I thought maybe you'd figured it out. Maybe you were targeting me somehow." His lips trembled, as though his own body was fighting for him to keep from revealing himself, to stay hidden forever. "I wasn't sure whether I should go through with it because..."

 

 

"...Because the truth is, I am Spider-Man."

 

 

Wade pulled away from Peter and stood up. Floundering for words, he found himself waving his arms around, not quite sure what to do with them. His fingers twitched before him, grasping at the air before drawing together over his trembling lips. Eyes wide, he took deep and shaking breath, dropping his hands to ask the one question on his mind.

 

 

“Are you...Are you _fucking with me?_ ”

 

  
  
Peter wasn’t this cruel. He’d only ever been kind and understanding, even when Wade knew he was being difficult and demanding. During their time together, Wade had exposed himself, revealed fears and secrets he had never dared to share with anyone, and Peter had only ever accepted him, offered him sympathy and understanding. He wouldn’t joke about something like this. Right?  
  
“No… not you... it’s me… my mind is fucking with me.” He brought his hands to his head, his words straining. “You wouldn’t be that cruel to me, Petey, but my damn brain wouldn’t be against it.” Tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them away before they fell.  
  
Wade glanced over at Peter, his eyes a little manic. A small part of him wanted to believe, but it was just too good to be true. It had been a long day, his emotions were strung out and now his brain was trying to punish him for the fact that he was in love with two people by thrusting him into a deranged fantasy where they were the same person.  
  
“I know Spider-Man, and he’s not you.” He croaked, heading for the hallway. No matter how much he wanted to believe what his mind was telling him, he knew it wasn’t a possibility. 

Of all the possible reactions Wade might have had to Peter's revelation, flat out _not believing him_ hadn't even made the short list. Not only did the man think it was some kind of joke, he flat out rejected the possibility. Was it really so hard to accept that Peter Parker could be something more?  
  
But he had no time to dwell on that. Wade looked genuinely upset, and the last thing Peter wanted was for him to hurt himself. If he'd known things were going to go this poorly he would have kept his mouth shut forever.  
  
_Nothing can ever be easy for us, huh, Parker?_ He sprung over the back of the sofa, chasing after Wade.  
  
"Wade, please! Please... calm down." His eyes shot to the room at the end of the hall, stomach twinging as he was slowly gripped with the fear that Wade might try to silence the conflicting voices in his head in the most unfortunate way. "Just take a beat. You don't want to wake Ellie, right?" 

Wade already had his hand on the door knob of _the_ _room_ , his frantic mind overwhelming him with visions of Peter laughing at him, Spider-Man taunting him before turning away in disgust, the two of them reaching out with soft smiles and gentle hands. Through the haze, a single word broke through.  
  
_Ellie._  
  
Whether the events of the day were real or not, Wade couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t do that to her. 

He struggled to focus on the fresh paint of his bedroom door. All at once, his knees gave out on him and he collapsed to the ground with a sob. How could he even think about taking his life with Ellie around? And in front of Peter? He hung his head in defeat.  
  
“I’m sorry.” The words were hoarse and brittle in the air. 

Wade had stopped in his tracks at the sound of his daughter's name, which was good news for Peter, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. He felt stupid for not even considering the possibility that the truth might prove too much for Wade, but the day had gone so well and things just _felt_ right. It just went to show that Peter wasn't allowed to prioritize his feelings when other people were involved. It only ever got them hurt.  
  
"Hey." He knelt beside Wade, placing one hand on his shoulder. If he could get Wade back to even neutral territory, that would bode well for the both of them, to say nothing of the sleeping girl just down the hall. "It's okay. You're okay. Ellie's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Let's just head back to the living room, alright?" 

As Peter dropped to one knee, movement behind him caught Wade’s attention. The sight of a familiar red and blue suit cemented the fact that his brain was still toying with him. He squinted at the sight of Spider-Man leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his iconic emblem, masked eyes revealing no emotions hidden beneath, only silent observation. Wade had to look away, the hero’s stoic demeanor growing more unsettling by the second. 

Wade tilted his head studying Peter, taking in each stray hair and every wrinkle on his brow. He was no stranger to delusions, but they were rarely as overpowering as what he felt now. Whether real or imagined, it hurt his heart to see the look of distress on Peter’s face.  
  
With a sigh, Wade released the doorknob and brought a hand up to Peter’s face, cupping his cheek. “You deserve so much better.” He pulled Peter forward, touching their foreheads together. “But I’m grateful for you nevertheless.”  
  
Slowly, he let go and rose to his feet. “Alright. Living room. Can’t be stupid. For Ellie.” He glanced back at the silent form of Spider-Man still lurking by the wall, and grit his teeth, wrapping his arms tight around his torso as he forced himself to move forward. 

“For Peter.”

If Wade was talking about Peter as if he wasn't there _while standing right beside him,_ it didn't speak well for his mental state. Peter was instantly filled with regret at having caused it with his own stupid sentimentality. What he'd done was inexcusable, and it had hurt his best friend besides. One of these days he would have to learn that revealing the truth about his identity _never_ went well, no matter how much he wished it would. And now Wade was paying the price.  
  
Whatever. He could beat himself up later. Right now his priority had to be Wade _and_ Ellie's safety. Thankfully, it seemed that the reminder of his daughter's presence had pulled Wade back from the brink.

"That's good, yeah. Come on. Let's go sit down. We can put on a horrible movie and make fun of it for a few hours. I heard Taylor Swift was absolutely awful in 'Valentine's Day'." He placed one hand on Wade's arm, hoping to guide him away from _the room_ before he ended up hurting himself, or worse. 

Wade let himself be led away. “That sounds like fun.” He said softly, running his hand over his face.  
  
Once they made it to the living room, Wade let his mind wander, hands busied with the task of finding the movie and pulling it up. He paused a moment before hitting play, still lost in thought. 

It seemed like Wade's mind was settling, but Peter had to remain alert. Tonight was evidence enough that even when things seemed to be going well, they could change at the drop of a hat.  
  
_Or mask, as it were..._  
  
Peter waited for Wade on the sofa, reaching out one arm to welcome him to sit beside him. "So are we actually rooting for any of these couples to make it?" He asked, doing his best to keep the conversation light. 

Wade blinked when Peter spoke to him, not even realizing he had taken a seat. He glanced back behind him, looking for any sign of Spider-Man, but it appeared he and Peter were alone now.

“It would be nice to see some happy endings. Some people deserve to be happy.” He shifted back into the couch, working on getting comfortable. “Do we know if we gotta deal with all straight couples?” 

"I always tend to assume the worst when it comes to Hollywood," Peter admitted, "but we may still be surprised. If there is a gay character I hope their entire character arc doesn't revolve around them being in the closet. There's loads of other stories you could be telling."  
  
He leaned into Wade's side, neatly pulling his legs up underneath him as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his borrowed shirt. After the long afternoon, his best efforts of tucking and folding the cotton were beginning to come undone.  
  
“Even if that is the case, I'm sure we can add our own commentary. You know movies like these are always full of tons of subtext." 

Wade watched as Peter leaned into him, the gentle warmth far more realistic than anything his delusions had ever cooked up for him before. He let out a sigh before wrapping an arm around Peter, content to enjoy it while it lasted.  
  
“I do enjoy adding my own audio track. Can never get enough of my own voice after all.” He rested his head in the unruly nest of Peter’s hair.  
  
They were quiet as the movie started, Wade not quite back to his rambling self, but all at once he lost himself in peals of laughter.  
  
“Oh my god, Taylor, sweetie, no.” He brought a hand up to his mouth, stifling his laugh. 

Peter's brow furrowed as his mouth froze open in abject horror and confusion. "What... what is happening right now? Wasn't she practically a teenager when this movie was made? Did she forget how high schoolers talk in just a year or two?" Even as Wade's chest shook with rumbling laughter, Peter kept shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
"Or maybe... she didn't! You know, I always suspected that studios just grow their performers in secret underground labs. This proves it!" 

Even though the movie was well on its way to full on trainwreck, Peter couldn't pull his eyes away. "When I think about how hard MJ used to struggle just to break into the acting world, and then I see _this._ At least MJ never dropped an accent mid-performance!" He snorted. 

“Aw, come on, give her a break.” Wade said, mirth filling his voice. “She’s a singer, not an actress. And this was definitely not break out role material.”  
  
Wade cringed as the movie went on. “Maybe it’s the writing. Holy cow, I wonder how fast you could get drunk if you took a shot every time they used a tired old trope. Hell, even I’d probably get drunk in no time flat. Oh damn, is that Topher Grace? Not my favorite version of Venom, nope.” It was an absolute mess of a movie, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. 

Peter's eyebrow quirked at the mention of 'Venom' but he shrugged it off. It wasn't as though the internet wasn't full of amateur Spider-Man character videos and shorts.  
  
The movie droned on, and by the middle, Peter was actually enjoying the horrible acting. At least it stood out in what was otherwise an unremarkable film.

Wade settled into the movie, making snarky comments at every flat line of dialogue, venting his frustration about the cliche closeted gay guy, and shaking his head every time he saw his girl Taylor on screen. 

Wade was grateful her career revolved around singing and not _this_. Her performance in the movie was pretty painful, but Wade noticed Peter tensing up a little every time someone called her character’s name.

"I used to know a Felicia," Peter mumbled, small frown coming to rest on his face. He didn't offer much more on the topic, but the tension still pulled at his shoulders.  
  
Wade wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think imaginary people usually came with their own baggage. It was possible that Peter’s discomfort was proof that he and the entire day were all very real, but it was still too much for Wade to process at the moment. Right now, he just wanted to ease the tension.  
  
What better way than by doing something he’d been doing all day?  
  
He pulled Peter close, words starting out as a whisper.  
  
_“Once upon time,_ _  
_ _A few mistakes ago,_

 _I was in your sights,_ _  
_ _You got me alone,_ _  
_ _You found me, you found me, you found me...”_  
  
He pulled back, grinning, but kept going, shaking Peter and encouraging him to sing along.  
_  
_ _“I guess you didn't care,_ _  
_ _And I guess I liked that,_ _  
_ _And when I fell hard,_ _  
_ _You took a step back,_ _  
_ _Without me, without me, without me...”_  

A goofy snort escaped Peter. He couldn't help it; Wade's falsetto was surprisingly on point and even if he missed a note here and there it was infinitely preferable to the grating dialogue on screen. As Wade swayed him back and forth on the cushions, he racked his brain to remember the next few lines.

_"And he's long gone,_

_When he's next to me,_ _  
_ _And I realize the blame is on me..."_  
  
"The blame is really on whoever wrote this script but I'll take responsibility for suggesting we watch it," he interjected, even as Wade kept singing. 

Wade just shook his head, still singing, but he was glad to have gotten a bit of a laugh from Peter.  
  
_“'Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in,_

 _So shame on me now._ _  
_ _Flew me to places I'd never been,_ _  
_ _So you put me down, oh...”_  
  
When it seemed that Peter didn’t know the words and so couldn’t sing along, Wade decided he’d do what he could to keep that smile on a little longer. And a grin spread as he thought of just what he could do.  
  
_“I knew you were trouble when you walked in,_

 _So shame on me now._ _  
_ _Flew me to places I'd never been,_ _  
_ _Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground...”_  
  
As Wade reached this infamous part of the chorus, he did what so many YouTube mashups had done and let out his best impression of a strangled goat, right into Peter’s ear. He had meant to keep the song going, but the sheer ridiculousness of the situation had the man falling forward into Peter, laughing at himself. 

Peter let himself get pushed back as Wade flopped on top of him, still bleating like some kind of remixed farm animal. An unrestrained roll of laughter came from him, and he threw an arm over Wade's back as he fought to try and stifle some of the noise.  
  
It was no use, though, and his senses picked up the faint sound of Wade's bedroom door and small feet puttering towards them before Ellie launched herself at the tangle of limbs they'd become.  
  
"Wha- no fair! You guys are having movie time without me!" 

“Ellie Belly!” Wade pulled the girl into his arms, stuffing her between Peter and himself. “We can watch mushy movies for the rest of the night. How’s that sound?” He sat up, pulling Ellie with him.  
  
“I get to pick out the next movie then!” She said as she wriggled out of her dad’s arms, tugging on them to get him to stand up. “And you go make the popcorn!”  
  
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” He said, making his way to the kitchen.  
  
It looked like the three of them were going to have a snack feast for dinner while marathoning movies. He wasn’t against it, but he made sure to take a variety of snacks and drinks back with him instead of just popcorn. If his brain was going to insist on continuing to let him have a good day, he would keep going along with it, even if he didn’t deserve it. He might do something stupid otherwise, and his priority had to be caring for and protecting Ellie at all times. Especially from himself.  
  
Wade walked back with his armful of goodies, smiling at the two still on the couch, who were arguing over the next movie to watch.  
  
“Peter, you’re not allowed to pick.” Ellie insisted, pointing towards the movie still playing on screen. 

"You're just saying that because I already picked the worst rom-com ever," Peter pretended to pout. "But point taken. You can pick the next one, maybe something with songs?"  
  
He looked up at Wade as he returned, eyeing the treats he was bringing back to their impromptu movie party, nodding in approval that banana chips and yogurt cups were included next to the gummy bears and cheese puffs.  
  
Ellie picked out "Enchanted", which met with everyone's approval.  
  
"Can't go wrong with any movie set in NYC," Peter nodded. "And it's got catchy tunes to boot."  
  
"Dad likes the cartoon parts the best," Ellie told him with a giggle. 

“Animation is awesome, what can I say.” Wade shrugged as he sat on the edge of the couch, and pulled up the movie, happily leaving the other unfinished. “Plus it makes for a handy example when I’m trying to explain how my weirdo brain works sometimes.”  
  
He grabbed a bag of chips and the bowl of popcorn, and took a seat, with Ellie sliding in to his side, small hand already in the bowl. Peter grabbed his snack of choice and found a spot as well.  
  
Soon enough Wade was struggling to hide his grin as he got onto Ellie for singing with her mouth full of food. Once she stopped trying to unsuccessfully gross him out with her ‘see-food’, he joined her in singing the songs of the movie. 

Even though he had to turn away to avoid gagging at their father-daughter gross-out games, Peter still found himself having a great time, and it seemed the earlier stress of the evening was all but forgotten. Though he didn't have every line and chorus of the movie memorized like the other two, he bobbed his head along with the beat, drumming out the rhythm on the arm of the sofa.  
  
It was impossible to fight down a grin as he imagined Wade as a cartoon princess, complete with helpful animal friends, singing "A Happy Merc'ing Song", and soon Peter was coughing, trying to cover up his own laughter.  
  
Once the movie was over, Ellie insisted on another, but they only made it halfway through before she had fallen over on Wade's lap, asleep. Peter himself was feeling a little worn out from the day, and found the man's shoulder was a surprisingly comfortable place to rest his head as he tried to pay attention to the screen instead of the soothing, rhythmic sound of his friend's breathing. 

Wade ran his hands through Ellie’s hair, watching her sleep more than the movie at this point. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t surprised when a deep yawn escaped him. Peter was slowly nodding off on his shoulder, and Wade smiled softly before shifting his arm, pulling him in a little more so he could rest more comfortably. For a few seconds, he stopped worrying about whether or not this was all real and instead allowed himself to revel in it, taking it all in. Moments of happiness were few and far between for Wade, and while he couldn’t deny feeling such contentment now _terrified_ him, he also knew he didn’t want to lose it.  
  
Maybe he would text Peter in the morning, and see how his day was going. And Ellie could help him out tomorrow, sorting through the events of the day over their breakfast. He knew there were huge chunks of it that had to be complete fabrications, but he didn’t want to lose the parts of it that were real.  
  
With a tired sigh, his head fell back on the couch and he nodded off as well.

Hours later, Peter blinked himself awake, mouth a little dry and eyes squinting in the blue light of the television's idle screen. It appeared the three of them had fallen fast asleep on the sofa, Wade snoring deeply while Ellie murmured half whispers from her dreams. It was the sort of soft moment Peter knew Wade had far too few of in his life, especially after learning how rarely he was able to see his daughter. But as glad as Peter was to share in their day together, he couldn't help but feel like a bit of an intruder. In fact, he should count himself lucky he didn't completely ruin the occasion with his inability to keep quiet about his own personal issues. If Wade had injured himself... if Ellie had seen... he would never have been able to forgive himself.

Slowly, Peter extracted himself from the tangle of limbs, pulling himself upright and rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes. He should go, let them have these last few hours to themselves at least. Later, he could check in with Wade, just to make sure he was doing alright, but for now the two of them probably needed a few days apart to let things settle between them.  
  
Peter grabbed his things and shuffled his coat back on, remembering to collect his old clothing. He'd wash and return his borrowed shirt later.  
  
With one last lingering smile at the sight of the sleeping pair, he slipped quietly out into the small hours of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Vod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolorVodka/) for beta reading this chapter.
> 
> Adorable artwork was provided by [Zleeopy!](https://zleeopy.tumblr.com/post/185423301154/it-was-such-a-pleasure-to-work-on-this-thank-you) Please go check out their exceptional art!


	6. All of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


* * *

 

 

Brown paper crinkled in Peter's hands as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the bumps and wrinkles in the package he'd brought with him. It might have been safer in his bag, but right now he relished the feeling of having something tangible to keep him focused and from... well... chickening out.

The past several days had dragged on, each one seeming endless and hollow. Peter pulled himself from bed, having hardly slept at all, forced himself to down a glass of juice or bowl of cereal. Shredded wheat cubes or frosted oat loops, it hardly mattered. Everything tasted the same. He went to class, where he let the tuneless voices of his professors wash over him before heading to work to hand over his latest photographs and bylines. If Peter was feeling particularly inspired, he might even microwave a frozen meal to pick at before throwing himself into his bed and waiting for the whole process to start over again.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't want to see Wade. In fact he missed his friend dearly, and keeping their contact to a few text messages a day had been more difficult than he'd originally imagined. Unfortunately, Peter had put himself into a rather tricky position, and for the time being he knew it best to keep his distance.  
  
Peter wanted to pursue something _more_ with Wade. He could admit that to himself now. But he couldn't do anything until he and Wade had an honest understanding about Peter's double life as Spider-Man. And Peter had tried, honestly, really _tried_ to be truthful about the fact, only to have Wade so _violently_ reject it, that it almost had Peter doubting his own words. So that meant pulling the brakes on everything. Hard.  
  
"What a tangled web we weave..." Peter murmured to himself, heading into Wade's building and out of the cold.  
  
But today... today was different. He just wanted to make a quick delivery, that was all. A sort of... apology, even if Wade didn't realize Peter had anything to be sorry for.

 

* * *

 

When Wade had woken up and found no Peter on the couch with him and Ellie, he assumed that large parts of the day before had been mere delusion. Yet Ellie had insisted, over breakfast, that Peter had been there almost the whole day.  
  
He didn’t dwell on it until after Ellie left, just in case things got out of hand for him mentally. Wade spent the following Monday staring at the ceiling from his bed, going through the day.  
  
Memories kept getting muddy in his mind during Ellie’s nap in the late afternoon when he would think back on the day. He could remember Peter telling him something important, but not what he had said. His heart told him he had to remember, but his brain refused to budge.  
  
He glanced at his phone. Whatever had happened, it had clearly affected Peter as well. Even though he had assured Wade via text that he was fine, just a little busy, something about his words didn’t sit right. The scant few messages a day he could get out of Peter were a glaring sign that things were not okay between them.  
  
Wade tugged on his mask, nerves starting to get to him. With his mind currently refusing to cooperate, he needed some kind of comfort, though he had forgone the full leather outfit.  Tapping his phone screen, he looked at the last message Peter had sent, letting him know that he was stopping by.  
  
He had a sinking feeling that it might be a short visit, but he hoped he could coax him to stay longer.  
  
His foot bounced nervously while he jabbed at his game controller, having long since stopped paying attention to whatever the objective was as his character died over and over in the chaos.  
  
The instant there was a knock at the door, Wade threw the controller down and jumped up to answer, forcing himself not to burst it open in his urgency.  
  
“How’s it shakin’, bacon?” He asked, doing his best to act nonchalant as he motioned for Peter to come inside. 

"Hey, Wade," Peter smiled just a little before stepping past him and into the familiar warmth of the apartment. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." His eyes glanced around the room, taking in the blankets thrown haphazardly across the sofa, the game running unpaused on the television, all signs that for the most part, life was carrying on normally in the Wilson household. Hopefully that meant Peter hadn't done any lasting damage.

“Nope, no interruption.” He made his way over to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him. 

"I just wanted to bring something by," Peter held out his paper sack, the surface now so creased and worn it clung tightly to the shape of its contents underneath.

Wade lifted an eyebrow ridge as he took the bag offered to him. “Oh? What’s this?”  
  
He opened the bag and pulled out a framed photograph, letting out a small gasp as he took it in. The picture was of him and Ellie dancing together on Valentine’s Day. Ellie looked downright gleeful, and Wade hadn’t thought it possible for a photo of him looking so happy to even exist.  
  
His eyes watered but he blinked back the tears. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at it, speechless. Once he regained some sense, he sat the frame carefully on the coffee table and turned to Peter, pulling him into a tight hug.  
  
“Thank you, Peter.”

Peter's breath caught in his throat as Wade's arms tightened around him and he tried not to think about how much he'd missed the man's unique brand of unrestrained affection.  
  
"You're welcome," he said softly, giving himself a few more seconds before slowly pulling away. "You said she doesn't get to come around too often, so I figured you might not have many pictures of the two of you. I'm sorry it's just a cellphone picture I printed out, but if you ever want I could bring some of my equipment over for a proper family photoshoot." He patted Wade gently on the shoulder, looking into the eyes of his mask, wondering if he'd take it off for the occasion.

As he felt Peter pull away, Wade was reminded that something was off about their dynamic, but he was determined not to make things awkward.  
  
“Cellphone or not, I love it.” He replied, shifting back on the couch. “And I bet Ellie would love to doll us up again for a photoshoot.”  
  
He took a moment (with the benefit of the mask) to study Peter. The tension in his stance was obvious, and he looked more like he wanted to cut and run with every passing second. Wade wanted nothing more than to keep that from happening.  
  
“Think you could stick around for a round or two?” He asked, jerking a thumb over to the TV screen. “It’s always more fun when I got a friend to play with.”

Peter glanced at the game for a second before nodding. Wade had apparently been whiling away the afternoon with an over the top fighting game that had just come out. It made him grin despite himself. Only Wade could spend his nights as a AAA rank mercenary and come home wanting to play a ridiculously violent game like this. Then again, maybe there was some kind of comfort to be found in the cheesy graphics and the fact that no matter who won or lost, they'd be back again for the next fight.  
  
"Sounds good, just take it easy on me. This isn't exactly Mario Kart," he grinned.  
  
This was good. It was easy. The two of them could hang out for a few hours and play some stupid games, eat snacks, and joke around. There didn't have to be anything more to it.  
  
And as long as Peter had to keep the truth to himself, there _couldn't_ be. 

"We can always play co-op. I think we’d make a good team.” he said as he stood up. “I’ll go grab us some snacks. What do you want to drink?”

Peter only shrugged vaguely at the question, knowing whatever Wade grabbed for him would be fine. "A team, huh? And here I was thinking Deadpool had a reputation for solo work."

Meanwhile, Wade had made his way to the kitchen and was busy fishing out a couple bags of chips and veggie snacks from the fridge. He grabbed a few cans of soda, getting the same drinks for Peter and himself.

This was finally a chance to fix whatever was broken between them. If only he could figure out what that was, so he could apologize properly. He sighed as he rounded the corner before slipping back into a more cheerful mood. It wasn’t too hard to force a smile since he was genuinely thrilled to be around the man he loved.  
  
_That_ would also take some getting used to, but it was a thought he needed to keep tucked away while he mended their friendship.  
  
He set the snacks down, handing Peter his drink before grabbing the second controller and sitting down. 

Peter took a swig of his drink, eyes crinkling at the sweetness before he settled back into the sofa and started scrolling through the menu to select his character.  
  
Three bags of chips, two sodas each, and three different games later, the two of them had relaxed considerably, falling into their usual back and forth banter, making jokes about the game, their online opponents, and anything else that happened to spring to mind. It was easy and effortless, and for a while, Peter thought everything might be okay.  
  
"I'm glad we were able to do this," he admitted, as his character performed an impressive stealth attack, knocking one of their opponents out of the game. 

Wade huffed as his character took an arrow to the knee. He reached out and grabbed his drink, but just held it a moment as he responded. “Yeah, it’s been awhile since just the two of us could hang out in peace.”  
  
A sigh escaped him as he tilted his can up and not a single drop fell from its mouth. He hadn’t even realized it was empty. With a shrug, he set it back down, turning his attention back to the game.  
  
“Think you can get your character over to mine? I’m stuck with an asshole of an enemy.” He ducked his character behind a pillar and leaned his head onto Peter’s shoulder, trying and failing to give puppy dog eyes through the mask. “Please?”

"Well I was sitting pretty over here," Peter drawled, already maneuvering his character up and out of his cozy hiding space to help Wade out. "But I suppose if I'm not too busy, I can swing by."  
  
It wasn't the easiest task, the other team was giving them a run for their money and Peter was still working his way up the learning curve, but soon he was at Wade's side and the two of them immediately turned their attention to performing some devastating combo attacks.  
  
"That's so cool," Peter gaped at the screen. "Wish I could try that out in real life."

“See, even Deadpool can be a team player sometimes.” He teased with a wink. “But I dunno, I think Spidey and I can pull off way cooler shit than any characters in some game.”  
  
Wade might have imagined the faint twitch of Peter’s lips at the careless comment, but he managed to keep from wincing himself. He didn’t know exactly why, but his gut had told him he really shouldn’t have mentioned Spider-Man. His character on screen did falter for a moment though. Maybe there was something about the hero at the core of their earlier tenseness, but he figured it was best not to delve any deeper now that they had finally managed to regain some sense of normalcy. Well, normal for them, anyway.  
  
The clock ran out on the stage and they let out a woop and exchanged high fives as they emerged victorious. “Hell yeah! we kick ass!”  
  
Wade popped up off the couch. “I’m going to get myself another drink. Need anything while I’m up?”

"I could go for another round of those cheese puff things, but I can get them," Peter offered, already setting down the controller. He was feeling a lot better than he had been when he'd first arrived, and his earlier panic seemed like nothing more than a bad dream, half remembered.  
  
It was probably that sense of security that tricked him into being a little too relaxed, and as he hopped up from the sofa he sent a bag of pretzels flying, as well as his own, mostly full can of soda.

Wade managed to grab the bag of pretzels, only to have snatched them out of the air upside down, and they hit the coffee table, landing hard and flying in every direction. He couldn’t help the belly laugh that escaped him at the ridiculousness of it all. 

"Oh... sh- cr- Dangitt!" Peter immediately started swiping at his thigh with little luck, denim already soaked through. "And here I was thinking I could put off laundry day ‘til the weekend."  
  
“We can throw them in my washer.” Wade squatted down as he picked up some of the larger pieces of pretzel. “Just go grab something of mine to wear while you wait. I’ll get started on cleaning this up.”

Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging, but he supposed there was no harm in it. He hadn't been planning to leave soon anyway, so he might as well take Wade up on his offer.  
  
"Alright then, don't start the next level without me. And I still want those cheese puffs!" He stumbled off to Wade's room, doing his best to act as though he wasn't embarrassed by how he was forced to waddle awkwardly to keep his legs from sticking together.  
  
Predictably, Wade favored soft, comfortable fabrics that were easy on the skin, so Peter figured he'd have no trouble finding a pair of sweatpants or flannels that would be comfortable for the rest of the afternoon. Thankfully, Wade's room was still relatively clean, a lingering bonus from Ellie's visit, which meant Peter would be saved from having to dig through piles of laundry and guessing what was clean.  
  
The first two drawers he pulled open yielded only socks and t-shirts, but the last was full of crumpled sleeping clothes, and in a few short moments Peter had what he was looking for, and he lost no time in pulling out something soft and warm. 

He was already shucking off his jeans when he saw _it._  
  
It wasn't that Peter had been looking for it. In fact he'd spent the entire day trying to think about anything else. But now, alone in Wade's room he was face to face with the very thing he'd been afraid of. The truth.  
  
Wade wasn't a particularly tidy person unless he had to be; he probably didn't even think twice about a little thing like leaving his closet door open. And had he shut it that morning, Peter would already be back on the sofa restarting their game. Instead, he stood frozen, pants down around his ankles as he stared at the familiar shades of red and blue.  
  
If he'd stumbled on it at the bottom of a drawer, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. If it had been tossed on the floor in a heap, it wouldn't have given him pause. But the suit was still here. In Wade's room. Hanging up. Waiting.

Peter stared at it as everything he'd been trying to quash down started bubbling up from his gut. Wade still had the suit. Not only that but he was still taking care of it, which meant he probably still wanted to use it. And the only reason for that was because he wasn't done living out his brief moments of fantasy with the hero, moments he expected Peter to help him play out.  
  
Of course, Peter _was_ Spider-Man, but that was the whole crux of the matter. He was a safe stand-in because as far as Wade was concerned there was no one further from the hero he held in such high esteem as boring, normal, tired and perpetually broke Peter Parker. The very _idea_ that the two of them might be the same person had nearly sent Wade into a catastrophic downward spiral, and Peter knew that even if he couldn't be close with Wade the way he wanted, he would never allow himself to be responsible for the man's self harm.  
  
He'd rarely felt so small, so petty and unimportant. He couldn't hurt Wade, but he also couldn't rob him of the comfort he seemed to find in Spider-Man's very existence. But right now, Peter didn't know what that left for him. He just knew he didn't trust himself. For Wade's sake, he had to leave.  
  
Yanking his pants and belt back on, he stumbled back out into the hallway, pulling his best attempt at a smile as he saw Wade's back in the kitchen.

Wade hummed as he wiped as much of the pretzel pieces off the table into the pretzel bag as he could. Once he finished, he took it to the kitchen, depositing it in the trash. He opened a cabinet and pulled out some paper towels to handle the spilled soda. Deciding to make it a one way trip, he dug around in the cabinet for his stash of cheese puffs, but frowned as it seemed that he was out.

"Uh, hey…” Peter’s voice cut through the din of the kitchen, catching Wade’s attention. “I'm sorry to cut things short. I just... um. Got a call. From my aunt. Having trouble with her internet...printer... um... you know. Gotta go fix it for her or it's going to keep flashing 12:00 forever."  
  
Wade’s heart constricted immediately at Peter’s tone. It sounded off, as though he was barely holding it together, just moments from tears, or worse. And he didn’t believe a word that was coming from him.

“Peter?” He asked, setting the paper towels aside and made his way towards him. “What’s wrong?”

 _Right._ Wade was an adult with a functioning brain and an eye for detail, not a small child or easily confused labradoodle. Peter should have known he wasn't about to let him escape that easily.  
  
"It's... it's nothing. Nothing to worry about. I just... I have to go?" He stammered, already grabbing his coat. "I'm sorry for cutting our game time short. Rain check on that next level? And the cheese puffs?"  
  
His fingers twisted in the fabric of his sleeves as he turned to face Wade, hating the look of genuine worry and concern he saw there.  
  
_Please. Please don't worry about me. Please don't feel bad. I'll figure things out somehow, I just need a little time alone. I'll figure it all out and I'll be back as soon as I do. But right now, I'm worried I'll hurt you... hurt us both._  
  
"I'll...I'll call you later, okay?"

The stammering and sentences phrased as questions when they very clearly weren’t, waved huge red flags in Wade’s mind. He watched Peter put on his coat, warring with what he had to do. Should he beg him to stay, ask him to talk out whatever their issue was, or let him go and give him space?  
  
His indecision cost him a few seconds, only the sound of his front door snapping him back. He ran out of the kitchen and towards the door, throwing it wide open to look down the hall. 

“Peter!”  
  
Wade spotted him, almost at the stairs. He sprinted the last of the distance between them and grabbed his wrist.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He started, a little breathless. “I don’t remember exactly what I did, but I know that I’m sorry. I’ve tried to remember, I really have.” His throat tightened in his panic but he pushed through it. “Please, come back, we can talk this out.”

Peter's spider sense meant that he was very rarely surprised or snuck up on, but he felt his heart leap into his throat at Wade's hand around his wrist. He froze on the spot, fighting the need to look back at him and losing terribly. Even with Wade's mask still firmly in place, it was shockingly easy to read the worry and _fear_ in his voice, and the guilt gnawed at Peter's insides.  
  
_He_ had done this to Wade. Because he couldn't control his feelings, couldn't separate Spider-Man from himself long enough to help a friend. Couldn't be there for him when he was needed most. Then again, that was nothing new for Peter Parker, was it?  
  
"Hey," taking a breath, he took a step back towards Wade. "You... you didn't do anything, okay?" He slipped from Wade's grip and took his hand in his own. "I just... I have some stuff to work out, and I should probably do it on my own. My life has gotten a little messy lately... well, messier... and... I didn't realize..." he sighed, tightening his lips to keep them from trembling. "I just need some time to process, you know?"  
  
He offered a slight squeeze around Wade's fingers, but his eyes pleaded for the man to let him go. Peter knew that if Wade asked even once more, he'd follow him right back inside, and then it was only a matter of time before he ruined things once and for all.

Wade still wasn’t convinced that whatever was happening wasn’t his own fault, no matter how much Peter insisted. His heart couldn’t accept Peter’s attempts to shoulder all the guilt. Squeezing back at the gentle pressure, he looked at their hands. He couldn’t just let him go, could he?

And yet, when he looked back up at Peter and met his eyes, Wade could tell that right now, this was what he wanted. No matter how much it pained him, he had to ignore the screaming ache in his chest and let Peter walk away. 

He brought Peter’s hand up to his mask and pressed a kiss to it, finally speaking soft and low. 

“Alright.”

With willpower he usually only tapped into in the heat of a battle, he let go of Peter’s hand, and watched him walk down the stairs until he was out of sight.

He remained there a few minutes more, unable to bring himself to move, until another apartment slammed their door on the floor below.

Wade managed to get himself back into his apartment, but didn’t make it far before he collapsed face first to the floor. He didn’t even have the energy to do something dangerous and stupid. Or at least nothing more stupid than remaining in that one spot for days, begging his damn brain to cooperate. If only his brain worked better, he could remember. If only he could remember, everything would be okay.

 

* * *

 

Wade stood at the locked door to _the room_ , masked forehead flush against the wood. He was struggling not to give into the voices. They’d been constant since the day after Valentine’s day a month ago, but had only gotten louder after Peter had bolted from his apartment.

 

 _You fucked up_ . _You can’t even remember what you did, it was so terrible._

 

 **What does it matter, not like he could care for your ugly mug anyway.**  

 

He pressed his head into the door, begging his mind to give him something, anything. 

 

 _He hates you._ Wade gripped his head. _Can’t stand to be around you._

 

He knew they were lies. Peter had assured him they were. But it was hard to fight the constant onslaught when he’d barely gotten more than single word text the last few days. 

He turned and slid down the door, tugging at his mask where it had begun to stick to his cheeks from his tears. It had been his intent to visit the red room, hoping a quick death would help reboot his memory, and allow him to figure out what he’d done, while silencing the thoughts racing around his head. Yet something stopped him when he reached the door. 

A memory found him, warm and fragile, Peter helping him through an episode after he’d blown his brains out after his last mission. Peter had been there to help him, even going so far as pretending to be someone he wasn’t for Wade. He wouldn’t be here this time, though. Wouldn’t be around to play the hero and talk him through…

Wade shot up, snapping his fingers. _Spider-Man!_ Maybe he could lend an ear, help Wade figure out what he did to push Peter away. Maybe if he rambled enough, it would slip out and he would remember what he’d done. At the very least, maybe Spidey could help him figure out a way to make it up to Peter. 

He paused as he pulled on his top. Would it be weird trying to sort out his feelings for Peter when he still held such strong feelings for Spider-Man? But no, he’d focus on getting advice to fix their friendship, no point in jumping ahead when he was still uncertain Peter wanted more than that. 

After one more second of hesitation at his window, Deadpool was out and jumping from roof to roof in search of his webbed friend. 

It took a few hours, but he finally managed to spot him in the middle of a fight. Wade wasn’t sure if it was a robbery or a gang fight, but there was plenty for Spider-Man to take on, but not so much trouble that Deadpool needed to jump in. Instead, he took a moment to watch.

As Spidey webbed up the last person, Deadpool landed lightly behind him.

“Hey, webhead!” he called out, mustering up all his energy into the faux cheerfulness he liked to have on the streets. “Wanna grab some tacos?” 

Peter straightened up immediately at the sound of the familiar voice behind him, and pretended to be double checking the restrained bodies of the petty crooks to give him a few extra seconds to react. It hadn't been easy the last several weeks, keeping his distance, but it was the only way he knew to keep from making a mistake they'd both regret. It was almost a relief to see Wade now, even if they were both cloaked behind masks and costumes.  
  
"Deadpool," he sighed, hoping Wade wouldn't think anything of the exhaustion in his tone. "Couldn't have shown up a few minutes early for an assist? Guess I'll have to take solo credit for this one, _again."_  
  
It was easy to feign playful annoyance, even if Peter didn't really feel it. Hopefully it would keep Wade from thinking anything was wrong. He didn't know how Wade would react if Peter _and_ Spider-Man both pushed him away.

“I think I helped just fine.” Wade smirked, as he walked over and threw an arm over Spidey’s shoulders. “I helped myself to a good view of your ass kicking ass.”  
  
It was all too easy to fall into the familiar banter with Spidey. And the easy back and forth provided a much needed break from the chaos of his current life.  
  
“So tacos? Or maybe hot dogs? We haven’t had those in a while. What’d we have last time? Burgers I think.” Wade continued to ramble about food. It was a safe subject. One couldn’t go wrong with that.

"Yeah, I think so." It had been pizza and gelato actually, but Peter wasn't about to disagree. "Tacos sound good, though. I wager it's a little too late at night for anything but the dodgiest of hot dog carts and I'm not looking to add indigestion to my busy schedule."  
  
He gestured out towards the sidewalk, motioning for Wade to lead the way.

Deadpool hopped ahead, tugging Spider-Man along, only too happy to encroach into the hero’s personal space. “Ah, very true. But I’m not sure which of my favorites we should visit this fine evening.”  
  
He fished a phone out of his pocket, and pulled up a list of places within walking distance. There was one still open a few blocks away, and a moment later he was happily leading the way.

The walk there was uncharacteristically silent, but he found it didn’t bother him since he was still trying to find the best way to bring up the prickly subject of Peter Parker with Spider-Man. Even after they ordered, Wade opted to go for something that had nothing to do with his worries at all.  
  
“So how’s the Spidey life?” He asked while they stood near the soda machine, waiting on their order.

"Same old, same old," Peter answered, trying to decide if he wanted to risk drinking caffeine tonight when he knew he really ought to get to bed early. Or at least what passed for early when you were a nocturnal vigilante. "Another day, another half dozen bad guys wrapped up for the police."  
  
He finally made up his mind, jamming a gloved finger into the machine before bending down to retrieve a can of lemonade that praised itself for being 5% real juice. So mostly fake. Fitting.  
  
"And the Merc business? Must be slow if you've got time for Taco Tues..." He checked the time, "Wednesdays."

“Yeah, well, you know, sticking to the small scale stuff for the moment.” Deadpool waved his unopened soda around the air as he spoke. “Got some...stuff to handle before I disappear for another job.”  
  
Grabbing their order, he started walking backwards as he spoke. “So what building du jour should we enjoy Taco Tuesday on?” He pointed a finger at Spidey. “And I do mean Tuesday. It’s still Tuesday until I pass out from exhaustion.” A crack in the sidewalk seemed to have it out for him as he tripped, righting himself to walk properly besides Spider-Man. “Though it has been a _long_ ass Tuesday. Staying awake a full week is a challenge.” Grimacing, Wade realized what he’d just admitted to. He may or may not have been fighting micro naps the last couple of days.

"You're leaving town?" Peter asked, having trouble picking just one aspect of Wade's troublesome rambling to focus on. "I don't like the idea of you leaving..."  
  
He caught himself before saying too much more, clearing his throat as he surveyed the available rooftops.  
  
"I just mean... if you haven't been taking care of yourself, not sleeping properly... you're going to have a hard time taking on any mission, right?"  
  
Finally, Peter managed to pick a rooftop that looked appealing. Decent height and vantage point, it was some kind of shipping facility that sat dark and silent in the small hours. Right now the idea of sitting on top of an apartment complex full of people living their comfortable and domestic lives left him with a sour taste in his mouth.  
  
"Up there," he pointed, readying his web shooters. "C'mon, I'll give you a lift."

Wade clung to Spidey as he lifted them to the top of the building. It was a calm, quiet place, a rarity in the city that never slept. He grabbed a taco and handed the bag over to Spider-Man.  
  
“Well, I’m not leaving yet. I haven’t taken a mission, though Weasel is beginning to pester me.” He paced across the rooftop as he ate, bits of onion and salsa spattering on the rooftop, totally forgotten in the wake of the anxiousness that plagued him. “I told him I’m not taking anything ‘til I get things settled with Peter.”  
  
He paused in his pacing, turning to Spider-Man but unable to meet his eyes. “Umm, speaking of, I was hoping I could maybe get some help sorting out my thoughts?” Wade hadn’t meant to sound so uncertain. Quickly, he stuffed the rest of the taco in his mouth and started pacing again before he could say anything else too revealing.

Peter's fingers tensed reflexively at the sound of his name, and lost hold of his own meal, which slipped from its foil casing and fell down to the ground below him, a casualty of the sudden spike of anxiety flooding him now.  
  
Every ounce of reason inside him was screaming for him to find a way out of the conversation, and fast. If he let Wade vent to him about his issues with Peter Parker, he'd be betraying his trust, which is exactly what he'd been trying to avoid from the start. And yet, his body remained frozen in place.

Wade managed to force himself to sit next to Spider-Man instead of continuing his nervous pacing. He searched through their bag of food, looking for another taco to eat, letting out a small hum of happiness when he spotted a burrito he had forgotten they had ordered.  
  
Before he even thought to unwrap the food item, it occurred to him that it was taking longer than normal for Spidey to answer. He glanced over, curious what was going on in that head of his but frowned as he realized just how tense Spider-Man was next to him.

Behind his mask, Peter frowned, teeth baring down on the inside of his cheek. He knew he couldn't go now, couldn't abandon Wade and leave him thinking that the two most important men in his life wanted nothing to do with him.  
  
Peter Parker might not have been able to be there for Wade, but Spider-Man couldn't let him down.  
  
"Yeah," the single syllable was hard won, strained but earnest. "Of course. What's going on?"

When the answer finally came, it seemed a bit forced, and Wade thought maybe he should hold off and wait to ask for help once Spidey seemed a little less stressed out. Maybe he should ask him how he was doing and if he needed to talk, instead of dropping a load of his issues on the man’s shoulders.  
  
Unfortunately, before his mind could finish processing that idea, the words spilled out.

“Well, a couple weeks ago, he came over and spent some time at my place, and things were going well. Great actually. Time of my life.” He picked at the paper the burrito was wrapped in. “But after that my memory gets hazy, the way it does when I’ve gone through a bad spell or a job gone wrong.”  
  
He slumped his shoulders forward. “I think I did something that really upset Peter, but I can’t remember what it was, so I don’t even know how to make it up to him.” His voice shook a little on the last few words.

Spider-Man was glad the two of them had talked about Peter in the past. It saved him from asking who he was, which would mean straying much too far into the territory of lies than he wanted to. He felt a pang of sympathy (and guilt of course) as Wade explained his memory lapse as though it was nothing more than a routine glitch in the system. How often did something like that happen? Had it happened before during their time together? Is that why Wade had been so disoriented after his winter mission gone wrong?  
  
Even though his mind was flooded with questions, Peter knew they all had to take a back seat to the one task at hand that really mattered - helping Wade. If he was going to ask anything of the man it had to be with the specific intention of helping him deal with his current trauma.  
  
"How can you be sure it was something you did?" After all, it was _Peter's_ actions that had set Wade off that day.

Wade let out a defeated sigh. “It’s _always_ something I’ve done.” He waved a hand dismissively through the air before jabbing a thick finger against his temple. “If it’s not because of the job, it has to do with my brain.”  
  
He dropped the burrito back in the bag, his appetite forgotten for the moment. “I know I’m not easy to be around. Everything can be going perfectly fine one moment, then I’m a mess on the floor the next. Usually I don’t have to worry about who the lapses affect, but it’s different with Peter. I don’t want to… to forget.” The last words were barely a whisper.

Soft as it was, the admission didn't escape Peter's ears, and he was overcome again with the painful realization that he was trespassing on Wade's feelings, betraying his confidence with each second he spent listening. But he still couldn't pull himself away, couldn't leave him alone on this rooftop when he was so desperately in need of a friend.  
  
"If... if Peter is really as remarkable... as _different_ as you seem to think he is, I'm sure he understands that you have these kinds of issues. I don't think something like that is enough to make him ditch you." And it wasn't. Peter hadn't left because of anything Wade had said or done, he left because he knew he had to reconcile his own feelings and disappointments, and didn't want Wade to get caught in the crossfire while he struggled with his own self loathing. "I'm sure he's not sitting around waiting for you to suddenly make everything alright."

Wade felt a stupid little smile cross his features at Spidey’s statement. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. He really is a go-getter. Not afraid to take action. Not so different from you. Hell, you two would probably get along like a match to a flame.” 

 _We've got more in common than you might think..._ Peter thought, deciding to keep his cryptic musings to himself. 

Wade leaned back on his two hands, and looked up at the starless night sky. “I guess I could try being patient, but I suck at that.”  
  
He glanced over at Spider-Man. “I want to fix things as quickly as possible ‘cause he is as important to me as you are.” Wade realized what he said and laughed softly. “Guess I shoulda been telling you that all along. Dunno if you even knew.”

Peter _did_ know how Deadpool felt about Spider-Man, and would have even without the time they spent together in Wade's apartment. After all, the man could hardly go two minutes without voicing over the top platitudes directed at Spidey's ass (or whatever part of his anatomy was visible at that moment). And yet, it was rare to hear him utter a confession with such earnest sincerity that it threw Peter for a loop.  
  
"Guess I had an inkling," he said at last, following Wade’s lead and looking back out into the night. "But it's nice to hear anyway. You're.... I mean...  I care about you too, Wade. You deserve to be happy."

Wade shrugged. “I dunno if I deserve anything, but I appreciate the thought nonetheless.”  
  
He rubbed at his face. It didn’t really feel like he’d made any progress, but talking about it and having some reassurance help assuage some of his darker thoughts.  
  
Wade returned to the burrito he had set aside, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe all of us could hang out sometime? I got a mean lasagna recipe from Peter I could make. Oh, oh, oh! I could dig out some of my board games. Most of them need at least three players. Petey won’t mind if you keep the mask on, he never minds when I do, anyway.” His voice was already rising in excitement as his mind raced away at the possibilities.

"Board games..." A laugh escaped Peter, wet and broken as he listened to his friend catalog innumerable games and activities the three of them might enjoy. And to be fair a night spent playing Monopoly or Settlers of Catan with Wade might actually have been pretty fun, even if he had to endure countless jokes about having 'wood for sheep'. 

There was just one problem.  
  
"It sounds great, Wade... really..." he choked out, hoping that Wade would be too caught up in his enthusiastic planning to sense anything was awry. "Really... but I uh... I don't know if it... it will... work out..."  
  
His fingers tightened around the empty foil from his meal as he fought to keep his gaze from straying to Wade's mask, not sure he could take the disappointment he was sure to see there.

Wade stopped listing off rule variants for Twister as Spider-Man finally spoke. Something in the hero’s voice sounded _off,_ and it occurred to him that he must have overstepped a boundary.  
  
“Right, right.” He brought his hands up and tapped his fingers together, slightly nervous. “We’re just work buddies. No need to hang out after hours. That’s...fine.” Wade didn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially since he knew this was their dynamic. Helping out in fights when needed, maybe getting to grab some food with Spidey if he was lucky, and that was it. Partners in fighting crime and nothing more.  
  
It only took one second to look at Spidey to see he was wound tighter than a corkscrew, and even less time for Wade to decide he hated it and wanted to make him laugh again. 

“Guess Peter will get me all to himself then. But don’t you go getting jealous!” There. That had to at least be worth a scoff of indignation.

"Jealous," Peter echoed. "Of Peter. The 'other man'. Or maybe _I'm_ the other man in this scenario?" His shoulders buckled as he hunched over, head leaning out into the night air. "Cause that's how it always is, right? There's _me,_ and then there's the _other guy._ Doesn't matter what I say, or what I do, the people I care about always have to end up choosing one or the other and that's when things fall apart."  
  
He sucked in a breath, but it didn't seem to reach his lungs, leaving his words raspy and faint. "I tried this time though, really did..."

Wade stared at Spidey, confused by his words. This was not the direction he thought the terrible joke would lead. Clearly he was missing something again. This time, though, he didn’t think his memory was at fault. Had there been signs he had missed? Did Spider-Man like him as...more than a friend?  
  
“I didn’t know I actually had a choice.” Wade whispered, not having meant to have said it out loud. He shook his head to clear it, hoping to shake some of the confusion from his thoughts.  
  
“Webs,” he said, trying to draw his attention back to him. He placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you, I promise.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter was aware of how close Wade was, that he was making contact in a kind and caring way that belied his usual manic behavior. Unfortunately, as his thoughts swirled around each other, he was pulled down along with them, and was unable to take even the slightest comfort in the gesture.  
  
"I know, Wade. I know." The words were pulled from him, each one painful and raw. "You... you wouldn't ever..."  
  
"And it's not... not your choice that's got me here... it's me." He wrapped his arms around his stomach as he tried to swallow down another breath of air. "It's always me."

Wade’s confusion fell aside as worry overcame him at every one of the hero’s hard won breaths, each stilted and ragged word.  
  
"It's part of that... 'great responsibility' isn't it? To make the difficult choices... even if... if it... it costs you..." Peter struggled now, each syllable catching in his throat, dragging across his tongue like sandpaper.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about this,” Wade said, but he had a feeling his words were beginning to not break through to Spidey.  

"We _can't_ talk about it though... I mean we _are_ talking about it but we aren't and we can't because if we do..." Peter nodded, rocking a little unsteadily on his perch of the building ledge. "I mean I tried, god I really did... I tried so hard so many times but..." His fingers dug deep into his arms, pulling the fabric of his costume tight.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that, Spidey.” Wade struggled to find something, anything to say that might help calm his friend. “You know no matter what, I’ll always be there for you.”

"I know you'll be there for me...But who's... who's gonna be there for you? Me... or the other guy... cause.... cause it can't be both..."

“Okay, you’re starting to sound as nonsensical as me, and that’s never a good sign.” Wade had his hands up in front of him, knowing that a mere shoulder touch wasn’t going to help, but couldn’t think of a better way to comfort him.  
  
There wasn’t a chance to think on it more; though, as Spider-Man slowly started tipping forward. For a split second, he expected him to throw out a web and swing off, but when he made no move to catch himself, Wade shot forward.  
  
“Spidey!” he yelled as he jumped over the ledge, grabbing it with one hand and Spider-Man with the other. The height might not have killed Spidey, but it would have definitely left him severely injured. “You can’t go falling off shit.” Wade grunted as he shifted so he could pull them up. “That’s my schtick.”  
  
Once they were safely back on the roof, rather than letting Spider-Man go, Wade pulled him close against his chest. His suspicions of an anxiety attack were confirmed as he felt the frantic heart rate of the trembling man in his arms.  
  
“Come on, Webs, focus on your breathing.” He whispered, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

Peter's entire body was shaking, his spine rigid, knees locked as desperate gasps for breath rattled in his chest. The edges of his vision began to grow dark, the edges of his lenses closing in, drowning out all but the brightest points of light.  
  
He shuddered once or twice against Wade, hands creeping up the other man's arms until they came to rest against the edges of his own mask.  
  
"Can't see..." he wheezed. "Can't... can't breathe..."  
  
He yanked the sweat damp fabric over his nose and eyes, but only stared ahead, blinking and unseeing as it slipped from his hair and fell flat against the rooftop. For half a second, it looked like it might have helped, as Peter gazed up into Wade's face, eyes wide, lips parted and searching for words.  
  
"Wade...I... I'm sorry."  
  
It was all he could manage before everything went black. 

Wade instinctively turned his head, jamming his eyes closed the moment he saw Spider-Man reach for his mask. He’d grown into the habit of averting his gaze whenever the two of them partially unmasked to eat, not wanting to give the impression he was trying to puzzle out the hero’s identity. (Even if he really did want to know.) But there was something about the pure, unguarded _hurt_ in Spider-Man’s voice in the seconds before he grew limp and still in Wade’s arms that forced the man to take a look at last.

 

_"Spider-Man? He's okay I guess. You uh... you’re a big fan then?"_

 

_"I guess you could say the bug really bit me when I was in high school, and it's been that way ever since."_

 

_"I know what it's like, having to keep things from people. Even the ones who are supposed to be close to us."_

 

_"I promise, Deadpool, you already know the best version of me."_

 

Wade’s heart dropped as everything slid into place in his mind. Peter’s easy willingness to understand the unnatural aspects of his life. Each strained and sympathetic smile as Wade waxed poetic about his hero. Every ounce of conflict and regret reflected in those big brown eyes, even in the happiest moments they’d shared. It wasn’t like the writing wasn’t on the wall.

 

_"...Because the truth is, I am Spider-Man."_

 

And of _course_ , he’d thrown it all right back in his face. Acted like he was desperate for the truth and then rejected it just as quickly. 

A string of curses rattled out into the cold and empty air.  
  
“Oh, Peter,” Wade murmured, running a gloved hand over the planes and angles of his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”  
  
He sighed as he shifted the younger man in his arms, grabbing his mask, and starting the trek back home.  
  
The voices were instantly in full force, howling harsh words and harsher truths from the darkest corners of his mind, but Wade did his best to ignore them. Right now, Peter needed him and breaking down was not an option.

Once Wade got them home, he laid Peter out on his bed before pulling back, rubbing his neck as he tried to figure out what he should do next. He decided to go grab a couple glasses of water and Advil in case Peter woke with a headache.  
  
It was tempting to wake him, but Wade decided against it, still needing time to give his own exhausted mind a chance to calm down. He changed into something more comfortable, sweats and a t-shirt, but hesitated at taking his own mask off. With a glance back at Peter, Wade removed it. Starting now, they had to move forward without the masks.  
  
He pulled some soft clothes out for Peter and sat them next to his mask, in case he wanted to change when he woke. Finally having taken care of everything he could think of, Wade sat on the bed with a yawn before leaning against the headboard. He pulled Peter’s head into his lap, running his hands through his hair until he nodded off, the string of restless days and nights coming to an end at last.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't long before Peter finally came to, and yet the ache in his chest and sides along with his general disorientation had him wondering if he'd somehow been subject to a sneak attack from Rhino. But no, the ‘roided out villain usually stayed low to the ground while the last thing Peter remembered was being up on a rooftop with-  
  
"Wade..." he croaked, pulling himself up with a strained groan as he tried to figure out what had happened.  
  
Though it was dark, the scent that hung in the air was familiar and the sounds filtering in from the street reminded Peter of tranquil and hazy mornings. He turned slowly, wincing as he caught the shadowed outline of his friend's body, relaxed and steady breaths causing his shoulders to ebb against the sheets.  
  
Even in the dim light, Peter could see Wade had changed into plainclothes and immediately his hands rose to his own face with a sudden trill of fear and regret.  
  
He'd done the one thing he'd promised himself he wouldn't do. After deciding to keep the truth about his identity a secret for Wade's sake, he'd failed completely, crumbling at the slightest test of will. Worse yet, he had no idea what effect the news had on the man, and Peter knew he was in no condition to help talk his friend down if he reacted as poorly as he had before.  
  
Choking out a wordless cry, he turned to search for his things, spotting the white lenses of his mask glinting at him in the darkness. His fingers tore through the empty air to grab at it, but in his haste he ended up tangled in the bedsheets and tumbling to the floor.

Wade startled awake at the sudden heavy thump of a body on his floor. It took a few moments of silence in the dark room for his thoughts to catch up with what was happening. Once they did, he reached for the light switch on the lamp next to him, and soon the room was warmed with a soft, comforting glow.  
  
Wade rubbed at his face as he looked at the mess of sheets and feet sticking up in the air. “Peter?”  
  
He pulled himself towards the side, looking down at the struggling superhero. It took some effort for Wade to hold back any jokes, but he was more concerned for his friend’s well being than his witty remarks.  
  
“You okay there, Petey?” He asked as he climbed out of the bed, helping Peter off the ground.

Even with Wade's hands firmly around his arms, Peter did his best to evade his gaze, tucking his chin against his chest as though the top of his telltale matted bush of hair was any less identifiable than his face.  
  
"M'm fine... Fine... I..."  
  
What could he say? How could he apologize enough? And how could Wade stand to be here with him now?  
  
"... We're at your place..." he mumbled bluntly, still staring at the floor.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Wade slid his hands up and down Peter’s arms, try to offer some kind of comfort. “Couldn’t leave you passed out in the middle of the city.”  
  
He moved back a step and picked up the glass of water and Advil, holding them out for Peter. “Not sure if you have a headache, but you should drink up. I’ll go make you a snack while you change.” Wade paused a moment before asking, “Is that okay?”  
  
He wanted to make sure Peter didn’t bolt at the first opportunity, but he wasn’t going to force him to stay either.

Peter accepted the water and medicine, not sure if it would do much good, but unable to reject anything Wade offered him now. He still couldn't meet his eyes, too afraid to face the hurt and betrayal he knew must be waiting for him there.

Wade frowned at the lack of eye contact, and for a moment he debated trying to push for more, but thought it best to leave it be for now. He didn’t want to pressure Peter into anything he wasn’t comfortable with.

Peter nodded, waiting for Wade to leave before swallowing the pill, draining the glass and setting it down on the nightstand with both hands before finding the clothes Wade had laid out for him. They were his own, leftover from some night long past, waiting for him in case another movie night or game session ran long. But he supposed now Wade would want him to take them with him when he left this place for the last time.  
  
A heaving sigh emptied his lungs as he started to change out of his suit and into his things, and now more than ever he felt raw and exposed, and deserving of whatever punishment awaited on the other side of the door.

Wade decided to keep their meal simple, opting to grab food for sandwiches and a bag of cheese puffs to go with them. He kept his eye on the living room, just in case Peter ventured out. But for now, keeping his hands busy was the only thing keeping his nerves calm.  
  
Unfortunately, the mindless activity gave him plenty of time to think about the situation. The lingering feelings of guilt had not gone away, but were starting to make sense at last. Finally, Wade knew why Peter had been so upset. 

A humorless huff of laughter passed through him. That day, he’d been so happy. But when Peter tried to tell him about such a deep personal private part of himself, Wade assumed it was too good to be true, that his brain was playing tricks. If he was honest with himself, things still felt a little surreal, but this time he was trusting his heart, and it insisted that Peter and Spider-Man were one and the same.  
  
A small, stupid smile slipped onto his face.

Meanwhile, Peter allowed himself a few moments longer in Wade's bedroom, staring at the floor, the bed, and even the closet where the damn costume still hung as though any one of them might give him some answers. For a split second he considered just leaving through the window to buy some time, but he knew it would be wrong and he couldn't bring himself to hurt Wade more than he already had.  
  
Slowly, he padded out the door, following the soft sounds of Wade finishing up in the kitchen, plates and glasses clinking softly on the table. Drained as he was, Peter wasn't sure if he could eat anything at all, but he knew at the very least he owed it to Wade to sit down and try to explain.  
  
Finally he showed himself, spending only a second or two in silence before speaking out.  
  
"Um. Hey."

Wade motioned for Peter to sit down. “Hey, yourself.” he said softly, offering reassurance through his gentle smile before taking a seat across from the place he had set up for Peter.  
  
“I know you’re probably not hungry, but I also know you have a fast metabolism and barely ate earlier.” He did his best to keep his volume low, pushing the plate towards him.  
  
He bit into his own sandwich, keeping his eyes on Peter. The young man looked utterly exhausted, and Wade made a note to try and get him to go back to sleep after they ate, or at least lay down for a while. It was difficult to imagine what might help Peter relax. Perhaps he could return the favor from before and give him a back massage. He could even use one of his fancier scented lotions, that was, if Peter still allowed him to.

Even though he'd just downed a glass of water, Peter's mouth still felt dry, and his jaw ached with a tension he had no hope of releasing. At least the food in front of him gave him something neutral to focus on, even if the thought of eating made his stomach churn.  
  
He chewed and swallowed in near silence, making it halfway through his meal before he couldn't take it any longer. Summoning his last ounce of strength, he forced himself to look at Wade, trying to scavenge some words of explanation from the barren corners of his mind.  
  
"I... I'm sorry," he managed at last. "I tried to tell you, I really did...so... so many times... And when I finally managed... Thought I'd got it right at last and instead you almost..." His eyes flickered to the kitchen door, memories of Wade's second room returning strong and overly sharp. He'd been able to stop Wade that time, but what had he missed when he'd blacked out on the rooftop? What had Wade done without Peter there to help?

Wade’s shoulders slumped forward as Peter spoke, and he let out a sigh as he set his glass down. When that _particular_ memory had sorted itself out in his head, he’d known that the events of that day had affected Peter, he just didn’t realize the extent.  
  
“Petey, no, that’s...it’s more complicated than that.” he ran a hand over his bald head. “I don’t even know where to-” 

Wood squeaked against tile as Peter's chair slid back across the ground, and he bolted for Wade's bathroom, making it just in time to be well and properly sick.  Hunched over, he emptied his stomach until he was heaving dry and empty over the bowl, his face red and slicked with sweat.

For a small moment, fear squeezed at Wade’s heart, but he soon realized where Peter was running to. At the agonizing sound of his friend’s retching, Wade followed close behind.  
  
He knelt next to Peter, rubbing his back until he was done. Once it was over, Wade stood, grabbing a small cloth and running it under warm water, squeezing out the excess.  
  
Leaning back against the sink cabinets, Wade found a seat on the floor and pulled Peter into his lap. He began cleaning his face, wiping away the sweat and drool.

Peter shivered at the touch and the unexpected gentleness of Wade's attention, still unsure just what was happening.  
  
"S-sorry," he mumbled again, vaguely wondering how many times he had to say something before it became his new catch phrase. "I know I'm not supposed to... I mean I have to get it together... Need to be there for you..."

It occurred to Wade that Peter was always trying to help someone. MJ with her schoolwork. Him with his episodes. Christ, to say nothing of all the shit Wade knew Spider-Man did for the city. And here he was, mid-breakdown, trying to repress it because he thought he had to be here for Wade. 

"Just... Just give me a second... I'll be fine. Back on my feet... Just another minute..."

He sat the towel down and pulled Peter’s head to his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to hold back for me.” Gentle fingers ran through Peter’s hair, caressing the soft curves of his neck and scalp. “You can fall apart, baby boy. I’ll be here to catch you.”

Though Peter's shoulders trembled slightly, his eyes were dry as he let them slip closed, his head falling to rest against Wade in search of a moment's peace. His breaths stuttered at first, but slowly evened out as they matched Wade's own steady pace. Eventually his arms relaxed, and his spine curled naturally as he folded into the hollow of the other man’s warmth, an uneasy sigh escaping from him as he allowed himself to take some time and remain perfectly still.  
  
Heart pounding like a rabbit's, he was far from sleep, and yet Peter couldn't recall the last time he'd been so utterly depleted. He'd been exhausted before, bone tired in a way that was so common as to practically be a part of who he was. But there had never been anyone there to hold him, to help him pull those worn and weary pieces of himself back together. No, that was a job for Peter himself to do alone.  
  
And yet, Wade had slipped into the role so easily, with a calm resolution he'd scarcely seen before, though right now he desperately needed it. Peter had rarely felt so undeserving.

As he finally began to relax, Wade tightened his hold on him, resting his head on Peter’s wild mess of hair. He rubbed at the tight muscles of his shoulders, where he still held a bit of tension. 

"This doesn't mean I can't..." Peter whispered, voice reedy and tight, "...I still want to be there for you, Wade."

“And you can, when I need you.” Wade murmured, stray locks of brown hair tickling his lips. “But that is something you don’t need to worry about right now. How about we try to get some more sleep, and talk things out in the morning?”  
  
He wasn’t sure if either of them would be able to sleep, but he’d rather be laying in bed than sitting on the bathroom floor.

Some tiny voice buried in the sub-basement of Peter's mind cried out that he shouldn't accept Wade's offer, that there was no time to waste, and the responsible thing to do would be talking things out right now. A seed of fear was rooted in Peter's gut that if he let Wade take him to bed, if he spent a few quiet hours in dreamless sleep, then _something_ else would go wrong and he'd find himself back at the start of things. And while Peter was willing to try and try again wherever Wade was concerned, he didn't want to put him through this kind of ordeal again.  
  
And yet his fingers curled into Wade's shirt, his head tipped down in assent as he let himself be lifted from the bathroom floor. It was only seconds more before he found himself laid out on Wade's bed, sheets pulled back, the familiar scent of the man's bedclothes greeting him for the second time that night.  
  
Peter turned to his side, tongue flickering out over dry lips as he reached out. Wade was only a few inches away but-  
  
"You don't have to stay," he said, hand twitching against his pillow. "If it's too weird or... or if you just don't want to... I get it but..." He pulled his fist back towards himself, holding it tight against his chest. "It... it would be nice... if you were here."

Wade offered a tired smile as he climbed into the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
Between his own lack of sleep and the sorry state Peter was in, this was for the best. He reached over and turned off the lamp before rolling over and facing Peter only to find wide, sad eyes meeting his. His chest squeezed. That look on Peter’s face broke his heart.  
  
Wade reached out, pulling him close. He wasn’t sure how long Peter would be awake, but between the warmth of the bed and lingering effects of sleep deprivation finally taking their toll, he would most likely fall asleep first. The realization upset him a little, because it could give Peter a chance to leave, or worse fall back into his panicked state before Wade could stop him.  
  
With his arms tight around Peter's shoulders, and lips nestled deeply within his hair, Wade found himself fighting to stay awake as he waited for the other man to fall asleep. It wasn’t easy, and he found himself in danger of dozing off more than once.  
  
“Hey Pete?” Wade received a soft ‘hmm?’ in acknowledgement. “M’sorry.” After a moment waiting for a response but receiving none, Wade finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

As exhausted as he was, Wade thought he would sleep for hours without any trouble. Instead, he had only managed maybe an hour before he found himself wide awake.  
  
He spent his first quiet moments just studying his sleeping companion. Peter had predictably started the night somewhat restless, shifting in Wade’s arms every few minutes. With a small huff of laughter, Wade pulled him closer in an effort to calm him. It seemed to work as the other man eventually fell still and silent.  
  
He had rolled on to his back at one point, Peter still held in one arm, and stared at the ceiling. Memories of the last few months replayed in his mind. Some moments were spotty, but cleared up whenever they contained Peter. It was remarkable just how much his brain had been trying to keep him from seeing what was right in front of him while screaming the obvious out loud at the same time.  
  
At some point, he managed to clear his mind enough that he could relax somewhat. He kept his eyes closed, just starting to wonder if he could get himself back to sleep when he felt Peter shifting next to him.

The sun still wasn't up by the time Peter's eyes blinked open. He stared, unseeing for a few moments, debating whether or not to try for more sleep, but couldn't bring himself to return to his cold and empty dreams.  
  
Most nights found Peter too exhausted to stay up for long once he made it to bed, with a few notable exceptions. The close of a semester once his exams had passed. The night things had ended once and for all with Mary Jane. The last time he'd seen his Uncle Ben alive.  
  
He'd laid awake in those dark hours as well. Wondering if he'd made the right choice. 

Knowing he hadn't.  
  
A few moments longer and Peter slowly grew aware of the soft and even breathing of the man beside him. He didn't remember coming back to his apartment, not clearly. There were still some hazy memories of a few waking moments from the night before, but Peter could only be sure of two things.  
  
He'd broken down and exposed himself, and now Wade knew just how badly he'd betrayed his trust.  
  
Despite it all, Wade had given him a place to stay, shared his bed, and watched over him, putting his own feelings on hold while he played the part of the responsible adult because he was just that great of a guy.  
  
Peter rolled to his side and tried not to think of endings.

After a moment, Wade opened his eyes and turned his head towards Peter. “Hi,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb the fragile silence.

Teeth scraped across Peter's lips as he struggled to speak. The streetlights outside had set a soft, cool glow across the planes of Wade's face, light catching on the corners of his jaw and brow, and the eyes that studied him now.  
  
He felt like a bug under glass, suddenly worried about how every word, every gesture might be interpreted, and whether Wade would believe any one of them at all.  
  
"H-hey," he managed, words rough at they caught in his throat. "I, uh. I'm sorry... for..."

_For misleading you._

_For not telling you sooner._

_For ruining whatever there was between us... whatever there might have been._

"Sorry for getting sick in your toilet."

Wade gave Peter a tired smile and rolled his eyes. “No need to apologize for that, baby boy.”  
  
Shifting, he turned his body to his side, bringing his hand up to brush some of Peter’s hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling? Think you can hold down some breakfast?”  
  
He could make out the uncertainty in Peter’s eyes, and knew that starting small would be wise for the moment. Peter would share his thoughts in time. At least he hoped he would. What Wade didn’t want was for the events of the previous night to eat away at Peter’s conscience, or worse, get pushed aside like they never happened. His smile faltered at the thought for a moment, but he steadied himself with a deep breath.

Peter's chest rose as he inhaled sharply, as though the sudden influx of oxygen would somehow make it easier for his brain to make sense of what was happening. It was strange, but Wade didn't seem upset, instead speaking in soft tones with worried eyes, asking after him like he had a cold and was staying home from school. Peter, for his own part, certainly felt small and powerless right now, so at least that was fitting.  
  
Nodding twice, he slowly moved to push himself up from the bed, muscles aching and skin tight, every cell crying out for him to drink some damn water. He imagined it wasn't unlike how most people felt after a night of heavy drinking, only he hadn't even managed to have the benefit of that kind of fun. Maybe it would have been easier that way, if the two of them had just gotten sloshed and spilled all their secrets all at once. But again, his 'great power' meant such indulgences were forever out of his reach.  
  
"Maybe some bread. Toast?"

The loss of body heat sent a shiver through Wade, but he followed, climbing out of bed anyway. He turned to Peter, holding out a hand. “I can do toast.”  
  
Once Peter took his hand, he led the way to the kitchen, releasing him as he swung by the table, clearing off the unfinished food from the night before. Grabbing a loaf of bread, he quickly threw a few slices in the toaster before going to the fridge and pulling out butter, jam, and orange juice for them to drink.  
  
The silence was deafening, but Wade refused to break it. He did keep Peter in his peripherals while he worked on their simple breakfast.  
  
It was the longest five minutes either of them had been through in a while. Finally, he set two slices of toast in front of Peter along with some juice, before sitting across from him, his own toast already in his hand to be covered in jam.  
  
He wanted to say something as the silence continued, the need to fill the room with noise conflicting with his nerves.

Peter took a piece of toast without even looking at it, anxiety losing the battle against his voracious and unattended appetite. It didn't hurt to have something to do with his hands, giving him more time to try and figure out what to say.  
  
Wade was rarely this quiet. Even asleep he snored, hummed, mumbled slurred words and forgotten lyrics. It felt _wrong_ somehow, like a blue sunset or warm snowfall...  
  
"Chicago style pizza..." Peter murmured, tongue clearing a crumb from the corner of his mouth.

Wade let out a snort at the random comment from Peter, but then started coughing as the toast he’d just taken a bite of made its way down the wrong pathway in his throat. He shoved himself back from the table, doubling over as he worked on getting the toast to dislodge.

Wood squeaked across the kitchen tile as Peter leapt up from his chair, immediately running over to his side.  
  
"Wade!" He knelt down, hands hovering over the man's shoulders as he tried to figure out what to do. He had basic first aid training (it had become clear long ago what a necessity that was) but he also knew better than to try and attempt the Heimlich maneuver unless it was absolutely necessary.  
  
He settled for smacking Wade on the back a few times, the flat of his hand landing firmly in between his shoulders as he coaxed his friend not to panic.  
  
"Come on, Wade. Deadpool is _not_ about to go down to the likes of some bread and jam!"

It was hard to cough up food while also trying not to laugh, but after a particularly good whack from Peter, the glob of toast dislodged and Wade caught it in his hand. He sucked in air, only lightly coughing now, and set the mushy bread on the plate he’d been using. As he drank from his glass to help clear his throat, he glanced up at Peter, pure amusement clear in his eyes.  
  
Wade rubbed at his neck, trying to stifle himself from laughing again so his sore throat could heal itself. “Choking on food is _not_ a pleasant way to die, especially if no one is around to remove it.” He smiled at Peter. “I’m all good now. Thanks for the assist, Webs.” 

And there it was. So quick. So casual. So easy. Wade confirming with a single word that he remembered everything that had happened, knew exactly who Peter was, and calling on him to own up to the facts face to face.  
  
"Of course," he answered quietly, pulling himself up from the ground, and forcing himself to meet Wade's eyes. His smile. "Anytime."

It took Wade a moment to figure out why Peter suddenly pulled away, and he had to reexamine his words and actions of the past few minutes before it dawned on him. He gave Peter a glum frown before turning his attention back to the toast on his plate.

The silence started to stretch between them again, and Peter knew he had to act now or the day would be lost to idle small talk and searching glances. He'd never survive, but more importantly he couldn't put Wade through it. He deserved the truth. All of it.  
  
"We should... talk. I mean... we need to talk. If you want to, that is. It would be good. For us to talk. Er... I mean... Can... can we? Talk?"

“Uh, yea-yes, we should talk.” Wade looked Peter over as he stood from his chair. “Living room?”  
  
Staying in the kitchen, trying to force out some string of conversation probably wouldn’t go well, especially since Peter was struggling with something as simple as just _asking_ for them to discuss...well he wasn’t sure exactly what Peter wanted to say, but he could guess it had to do with him being Spider-Man.  
  
Taking Peter’s hand once more, Wade led them to the living room. He hesitated a moment at the couch, uncertain about settling for sitting next to each other, it would barely be any better than the kitchen. Peter seemed to be having similar reservations as he stood nearby, chewing on his bottom lip, uncertain.  
  
Wade tapped Peter’s nose. “Stop that,” he said softly.  
  
Finally, he realized what might help; he knew it had helped him at least. He sat on the couch, shifting to lean against the arm and bringing up his legs before pulling Peter down, slotting him in between. A quick tug brought down the blanket that sat on the back of the couch and soon it was draped over their legs. Slipping his hands loosely around Peter’s waist, he pressed against him to get him to lean back and attempt to encourage him to relax.  
  
“Thought it might help you find the words if you didn’t have to look at me.” He shook his head as he tightened his arms around Peter, the words sounding more self deprecating than he meant them to be.

"I like looking at you," Peter answered reflexively, shifting against Wade's chest and trying to focus on the comforting warmth behind him. Every nerve in his body still felt stretched to its limit, but maybe here, wrapped up in a blanket and Wade's arms, he could trick his body into thinking everything was alright.  
  
"I'm just not used to people looking at me when I have something to say," he admitted. "The uh... The mask helps."

Inhaling deeply through his nose, he held it for several beats before finally letting the breath slip out between his lips. Peter could do this. He'd done it before, after all.

Placing a kiss to the back of Peter’s head, Wade waited patiently for him to speak his mind. Even if his nerves were a little on edge, everything felt right, and though this might wear at them emotionally, it was something they needed to discuss. He ran a hand up and down Peter’s arm offering some measure of comfort and easing his own mind.

"I'm Spider-Man," Peter said at last, unmoving except for the faintest twitch of his head towards his shoulder. "I know you've figured that out at this point, but I just wanted to... to say it. To tell you. On my own terms. Sort of."

Even though Wade knew it was coming and shouldn’t have been surprised in any way, he still let out a sound of amazement as Peter admitted who he was. He felt a thrum of excitement coursing through him, and was grateful that Peter couldn’t see his face. It was far too gleeful for the solemn tone of his words. 

"And for the record, I did try! Actually I even _succeeded_ one time but then everything sort of fell apart and I realized what a huge mistake I'd made and..." His chin dipped low, tight against his chest. "After that I didn't want to risk it. Didn't want to hurt you again.”

Wade’s smile was gone in seconds as he was reminded that he had, in fact, already been told Peter’s secret. He bit his tongue, wanting to respond but it was more important to let Peter say his piece. Besides, he had no way of properly explaining just how his brain had short circuited back then. Hell, the memory was still a blur, and driving him crazy. Instead, he tightened his hold on him, letting one hand fall to rest over his racing heart, the other giving Peter’s forearm a soft squeeze. 

“Because I get it, okay? I really do. You're not... You're not the first person I've told who had a... a _problem_ with it. Weirdly with MJ it was the easiest because she knew me as Peter first. For her to tell me that Spider-Man didn't fit into her plans for the future... I... I can respect that. I wouldn't ask anyone to take on _my_ responsibilities.”  
  
“As for the rest..." His hand found its way to Wade's, trembling fingers barely brushing over scarred knuckles. "Look, I _knew_ how you felt about Spider-Man. If it wasn't obvious from our times on patrols, you flat out told me when I was here as Peter. And I _get_ how difficult it is to reconcile that this so-called hero you've built up in your mind is just some New York City nobody who can't keep his life together. I know... it's a let down, and I'm sorry."

Wade turned his hand over and threaded his fingers with Peter’s, squeezing his hand as he brought it up to his lips, before finally speaking.  
  
“There is so much wrong in that statement, I’m not sure where to start.” he said, keeping his tone light. “First off, I am so fucking sorry I made you feel like telling me was a mistake. It was so far from it.”  
  
Wade took a deep breath before letting it out as a sigh. “I...I don’t know how to explain it. The best I can offer is my brain thought it was a too-good-to-be-true moment. I freaked out because I thought it was all a delusion, something my brain cooked up to mess with me because it had been such an amazing day. The fact that you were gone in the morning only seemed to confirm the delusion.” He looked at their intertwined hands. “If not for Ellie, and your visit to drop off the picture, it would have stayed that way, just a dream I couldn’t remember all of.”

Bringing up his free hand to caress Peter’s jaw, he continued. “God, you are _not_ a problem. And even if you were, you’re a problem I’d want to solve, make work into my plans.” His voice softened at the admission. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”  
  
“Yes, I may have put Spider-Man on a pedestal, but I never once thought he could take an interest in me. He...shit...You aren’t two different people, I need to stop that… You kept me at arm’s length out there,” Wade made a motion at the skyline through the window. “And I got it, you were trying to protect yourself. It’s a part of being a hero. So I didn’t push, I was content admiring from afar.”  
  
“But then you, _Peter_ you, appeared out of nowhere, and managed to shove over that pedestal, and often I found myself not even _thinking_ about Spider-Man. Instead I’d become fascinated by this young man who had no reason to care about a mess like me, could have faked it, taken his money, and been gone, like so many others.” His rambling stopped as he realized how close he was to confessing things he wasn’t sure Peter was ready for yet.

"I _did_ care," Peter insisted. "I mean, I _do_ care. Now. Still."  
  
He ran a tense hand through his hair, fingertips pressing firmly against his scalp as he gave an uneasy hum.  
  
"When I answered that ad, I had no idea who had posted it. And I admit, I did think about leaving the moment you opened the door. Not-" He gripped Wade's arm with one hand for a fraction of a second. "Not because I was scared off or because I was seeing your face for the first time, but because I was worried entangling any part of our personal lives could pose a risk. For both of us."  
  
"And you're right, the mask might make it easier to protect yourself, but it also makes it almost impossible to forge any sort of meaningful connection with other people. So when you explained to me what you were looking for that night I... I understood. Better than you might have thought."  
  
"And... look I'm sorry that money came into it _at all."_ He hung his head, not sure he could bear to look Wade in the eye. "But it probably would have been suspicious if I refused you that first night, and in all honesty I wouldn't have even been answering an ad like that if I wasn't at no-heat-in-my-apartment levels of desperation."

"But uh... things have been going better at the Bugle lately. I've even managed to deposit most of my last two paychecks rather than handing them straight over to the landlord." He gnawed the inside of his cheek, doing some quick mental math. "I can work on paying you back. I mean, I _want_ to pay you back. You uh... you take installments, right?"

It started as a chuckle, but then Wade couldn’t help as it evolved into a full on laugh. Here they were, baring themselves emotionally, and Peter was worried about something as trivial as money. He tried to stifle the laugh in Peter’s hair, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking.

“It’s just money, Petey. You needed it, I didn’t mind paying you.” He sighed. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about paying me back.” Poking him in the side, he continued. “In fact, _please_ ask if you ever do need help again? If we’re going to be friends, I want to be there for you when you need it.”

Peter grumbled. Of course Wade could afford to say something was 'just money'. He was a wealthy mercenary who thought nothing about leaving stacks of cash behind at a diner if he happened to like the song playing on the jukebox, while Peter was never more than a few bad weeks away from an eviction notice. And despite Wade's levity about the whole matter right now, he knew that the fact he'd paid for Peter's time had definitely upset the man in the past.  
  
"It's... It's not that simple. I can't just ask for something like that." He tried to turn a bit, but was only able to get half a view of Wade's face without leaving the comfort of his spot between his legs. "You want to be here for me, and you have been. Having you as a friend these past months has meant the world to me. Getting to know you, not having to hide what a dork I am, meeting Ellie... I can't tell you what that's been like for me."

Wade nodded in understanding. “It has been nice to have someone I can be myself around. I don’t have many people I’m around outside of work, and well, you know how I get.” Being over the top was just a part of his schtick, and he didn’t ever think that would change.

"But I want to be there for you too, and I for a long time I've felt like I can't be if there's this ugly cloud hanging over us. Not really. Not..." Peter stumbled. "Not the way I want to be."

Sitting up straight, Wade stared confused at the back of Peter’s head. His nerves spiked. “And what… what way is that?” he managed to get out.

Immediately, Peter's shoulders were hunched up near his ears as he silently lamented the loss of Wade's warm body against his back.  
  
Was it possible Wade genuinely had no idea what he meant? Had he not lost any sleep considering the exact same thing? And if so, did that mean he was content to carry on as before, as friends with not-exactly-benefits?  
  
"I.." Peter's voice was rough in this throat, the morning's juice felt like hours ago. "I couldn't bring it up until after I came clean to you about the whole spider... thing. And I understand if now it's too late or too... too complicated."  
  
He pulled himself away from Wade, enough to turn and look at him straight on, reluctantly leaving his comfort zone.  
  
"I know you said you never thought Spider-Man would ever actually return your feelings. And maybe this is a whole Star Trek 'Having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting' situation. But... if... it isn't..."

Wade’s eyes widened, a sliver of hope worming its way to the front of his thoughts. Then Peter shifted and turned to look at him. There was such naked fear and uncertainty in his eyes, and Wade knew he had to put him at ease before the younger man shut down.  
  
He brought his hands to cup Peter’s face and pulled him close, touching their noses. His heart was beating so fast, he swore it might fly out of his chest and ruin the moment.  
  
“Yes, I love Spider-Man, but I am _in_ love with Peter Parker, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  
  
Closing the distance between them, he kissed him, trying to pour into it just how important he was to Wade. Tears he hadn’t been expecting fell from the corners of his eyes as his hands slid from Peter’s face to his shoulders, needing to pull him closer.

It wasn't the first kiss they'd shared, nor the second. In fact, Peter had lost count of the number of times he'd felt the searching heat of Wade's lips pressed against his own. And yet, this kiss was everything and nothing like those at all.  
  
To be fair, there was still the familiar desperation, practically audible in the pounding of their hearts, but for once the feeling wasn't borne from a fear of loss so much as a desire to make up for lost time.  
  
He put up no resistance at all, falling against Wade's chest with a trembling sigh, his eyes closing as he let his thoughts slow and take in the moment, appreciating it for what it was. Peter Parker loved someone, and that person loved him back, and for once those feelings weren't clouded by worry or fear.

Burying his face in Peter’s hair, Wade savored the moment. It felt surreal, but he knew to listen to his heart and not his mind, and it was shouting, screaming, _singing_ at him that is was so fucking _real._ He ran his hands up and down Peter’s back and began humming a tune.

"So... it's alright then," Peter mumbled, his lips brushing against Wade's shoulder. "It's okay if I love you too?"

Eyes soft, face warm, Wade's lips bloomed into a tender smile as his hand rose to brush against the reddened skin of Peter's cheeks. His words fell, soft and easy, filling the sharp ache that had filled Peter's chest for so long.

"I really hope you do."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, we've had a busy summer. Keep an eye out, I (ender) want to post our nsfw chapter separately which will be up before the epilogue. 
> 
> Wonderful art done by [Apendicechileno](https://www.instagram.com/apendicechileno/?hl=en)!!!
> 
> Thanks of course to [Vod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolorVodka/) for pestering us to get the editing done and beta reading this chapter!!!

**Author's Note:**

> [Stop by this handy tutorial to know how to have your images fit mobile AND regular computer screens at the same time! It was super freaking handy! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768186)


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